


Lessons on Summoning

by aroundloafofbread



Series: Summoning [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, But Adapted, But not that bad, Demons, Dragons, Elves, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fluff, Humor, LessAdventurous!Harry, M/M, Magical Creatures, Magical Miasma, Monsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quests, Rituals, Slow Burn, Tournaments, Triwizard Tournament, Trolls, Unicorns, Vampires, Wizards, summoner!harry, summoners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/pseuds/aroundloafofbread
Summary: Hogwarts is the best summoning school in the land. Students train hard for years before they summon and contract a guardian to aid them in their quests. Quests fraught with peril on the continent overrun by beasts, monsters and demons.There was also the Quadsummoner Tournament where summoners and guardians battled other teams to claim the championship title. One that Harry Potter was determined to do well in and secure a place within the top ten. That would show that upstart Malfoy up!Except Harry shouldn’t have been late for the summoning class. The mistake cost him his chance at contracting a coveted guardian. Instead he gets this…Whoisthis man in front of him? This Tom Riddle? A nobody wizard guardian? Not that Harry minded, but he was going to have to bear the brunt of Malfoy’s teasing. The whole school was now betting that he would lose the tournament to Malfoy.What utter codswallop!





	1. Lesson One: Always Be Punctual For Class!

**Author's Note:**

> I always liked the more integrative approach to magical creatures in the HP world.

Harry was downing his fourth bottle of Butterbeer. He was plenty sure there was some Firewhiskey mixed in as well. Hermione shot him looks of disapproval, but she wouldn’t stop him. After all, the seventh year common room was buzzing with excitement. With the exception of Crabbe and Goyle, they had all finally passed their W.I.R.T.S. (Who Is Ready To Summon) examinations, and were having a well-deserved celebration. Tomorrow, they would be eligible to begin summoning their first guardian. 

That was the quintessential hallmark of their education at Hogwarts, the best summoning school in the continent. Or at least, the best according to its alumni, but which self-respecting summoner would not praise their own alma mater? It took seven years of hard work and studying, then three years of fellowship training once a guardian was summoned, before graduation. They would then be thrown out into the harsh world brimming with monsters, beasts and demons and make a living out of questing. 

Harry wasn’t too concerned about questing, he preferred the idea of teaching at Hogwarts, if they would accept his application. After all, he had been top of the school for Defense Against Dark Aggressors class since his enrollment. Not to mention that he had no wish to risk overexposure to the miasma. If anyone would excel at questing, it would have been Hermione, with her ridiculous repertoire of knowledge and spells. She was, however, entertaining the idea of getting her Mastery in Summoning Rituals after a chat on career options with Professor Flitwick.

“I’m going to be the best Quester of our generation. And mark my words, I’ll be the first to succeed the quest for the ruby on the Dark Throne _and_ I’ll eventually make the Demon Overlord my guardian.” Draco Malfoy drawled while seated in his silver and green couch, surrounded by sycophantic classmates hanging onto his every word.

From their corner of the common room, Ron scoffed.

“Mark _my_ words, he won’t be the first to succeed getting his skull strung up as decoration on the Dark Throne.”

Harry laughed heartily, feeling more than a little tipsy.

“I still don’t know why you aren’t pursuing questing, Harry. It would have been fun for us to partner up in quests.” Ron sighed, shaking his head forlornly.

“He might change his mind after his first guardian summon.” Hermione offered.

“Speaking of which, what do you hope your first guardian will be? I know we spoke about this in fourth year but I assumed we’ve changed our minds since then.”

“Oh I don’t know. I’m still hoping for a fae, they are the most intelligent species aside from demons and I’m sure they can bring new knowledge to runic ritual circles. I’d be happy to strike a partnership with any fae from the Lovegood family. I don’t fancy having to watch my back if I summoned a demon.”

“ _I_ would like to have a demon guardian! Imagine how helpful a contract with one would be during deep dive quests! Getting a contract with a famous demon like Barty Crouch would be amazing. But if I can’t get a demon for my first guardian then I think a dragon would be great. Charlie’s got a dragon guardian. Or maybe a Veela like Bill’s. What about you, Harry?”

“Mm? I just want a strong and powerful guardian, and someone who I can talk to and be happy to spend just about the rest of my life with. As long as it’s not a Troll.”

Ron burst into laughter.

“Don’t let Quirrell hear that! I bet he was hoping to get two students attached to him for fellowship training this year. Too bad Crabbe and Goyle failed their exams.” He guffawed.

“Ron! It’s _Professor_ Quirrell.” Hermione tutted at her red-headed friend, before turning to look at Harry. Harry noticed that she hadn’t said anything to contradict the second half of Ron’s statement.

“You can let go of your guardian after the contract is over, you know? If it doesn’t work out you don’t have to spend the rest of your life with your first guardian. It’s alright to summon or contract others until you meet the right one.”

Harry nodded in agreement. It was after all an exception for one to extend the typical three years contract to a lifelong contract. 

Lavender Brown elbowed her way into their conversation once she heard where it was going.

“Oh but wouldn’t you like to have a whirlwind romance with your prime guardian? It’s everybody’s dream! Staring at your destined partner as they appear in your ritual circle; finding your one and only!” 

Hermione frowned at the girl in displeasure but wisely kept her mouth shut.

“Like my brother Bill and his guardian Veela, Fleur. She’s one of the royal Delacours. They’re planning their wedding soon.” Ron said proudly.

Harry found himself in the opposite camp. He knew it was a kind of romanticized goal that many summoners hoped to achieve. It was uncommon even for life-bond summons to go beyond anything than a good working relationship, so first-guardian marriages or specifically termed ‘prime’ life-bond summons were highly coveted. The raven-haired boy always averted his eyes rather than look at the sappy way Headmaster Dumbledore interacted with his prime guardian Grindelwald, the King of Imps. Or the revelation that his godfather Sirius’ mother, the notoriously famous Walpurga the Screech, was actually a Banshee-demon prime guardian. Yea, _those_ were the freaky ones.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realise the new direction of the conversation until he heard his name.

“-isn’t that so, Harry? Harry?”

“Sorry, what? Say that again?”

“You stop drinking that Butterbeer!” Hermione scolded, while snatching his sixth bottle away from him. Harry aborted his half-hearted attempt to take the bottle back when she levelled a glare at him.

“As I was saying, you _will_ be participating in the Quadsummoner Tournament even if you don’t intend to enter the questing career, right?” Ron asked him rather forcefully. “You _have_ to show that git Malfoy who’s better!”

“Yes I will. Even though I’m not interested in the Celebrated Quester certificate, I have no intention of losing the bet with Malfoy.”

And he wouldn’t! Harry wasn’t looking for the fame and glory and a headstart in the questing career as the tournament promised. But an altercation in the third year led to a bet that Harry would place top ten in the tournament. They would all qualify for the novice level at the end of their first year of fellowship. Harry promised himself he would enter the competition and beat that slimebag in the tournament. 

Much of his success would hinge on the first guardian he summoned. 

Harry grinned at his two best friends. It was going to be a blast.

___________________________________________________________________

 _Blast it!_ He was late for class!

Why didn’t Ron wake him up!? Granted they no longer shared rooms since their sixth year but this was an exception. He couldn’t be late for the all-important summon of his first guardian while suffering from a massive hangover!

Harry ran down two or three steps at a time, making a sharp left turn and skidding down the corridor before halting at the door of the summoning hall dedicated to first guardian summons.

He took a deep breath and slowly inched the door upon. He was greeted with silence as he looked into the hall devoid of chattering students. It was instead filled with many booths that were magically expanded on the inside, reinforced against interference and enclosed on all sides. Each one was occupied by a student as they required isolation while preparing the summoning ritual. He must have missed the initial briefing.

“Mr. Potter!” Professor McGonagall snapped angrily at him a few paces away from the door. “To be late on such an important day!” Her Cat Sidhe guardian hovering near her shoulder took the opportunity to look disappointingly at the teenager.

Harry hung his head in shame, face burning up with embarrassment. Butterbeer laced with Firewhiskey was a bad idea.

“Well, what are you waiting for? There’s no more time to lose.” She said, gesturing to one of the booths that had the name Harry James Potter labeled on the door.

Harry scampered in as quickly as he could and shut the door, before leaning upon it while struggling to catch his breath.

His headache was not receding. He hoped this day wouldn’t get any worse.

Harry settled himself on the small cushion. The booth was rather dim with a reddish cast, but he could still see the runes on the massive ritual circle in front of him rather clearly. 

It was a standard first guardian summon ritual circle, prepared ahead of time by the professors. A section of the Northeastern quadrant was left empty for him to write his own runic message to potential guardians.

This was generally considered an important event for all races, from merfolk to centaurs to humans. All fresh graduates entering their fellowship from the summoning schools all over the world including Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Uagadou, Castelobruxo, Mahoutokoro, Koldovstoretz, Ilvermorny and Durmstrang were gathered on this one day in booths across the continents to appeal to any magical beings interested in guardianship.

Here in the booths they would write a message detailing a few of their accomplishments, personality quirks and other information that would attract the more powerful magical beings who had tuned in to the summoning. It worked as an artful summoner’s pitch of sorts, impressing without revealing one’s identity. Those considering guardianship would then choose the summoner they would like to work with, though the process was a lot more complex.

Potential guardians had a hierarchy in the societies with politics, currency and violence involved, allowing the more powerful beings to veto the choices of the weaker ones, and take their first pick of whichever summoner fascinated them the most. Unfortunately, tardiness was considered poor form for such an event, and Harry dearly hoped the potential guardians would not be offended by it.

The raven-haired summoner flusteredly slipped on the pair of provided non-contaminant gloves and picked up the white chalk in the toolbox beside the cushion. He proceeded to quickly scribble his runic message in the empty quadrant. He had prepared one ahead of time but in all his panic he had quite forgotten what he wanted to write.

“My name is Harry James Potter. I am hoping to contract with a guardian who appreciates–”

And that was his first great mistake. For a summoner should never write their name in a ritual circle. It would give away the summoner’s identity, and allow the other party undue power over the summoner, which had only ever resulted in catastrophe.

His headache was so severe he winced while writing the message. A minute or so later, he placed the chalk back in the toolbox and proceeded to remove several items from his bookbag. 

This was the next crucial step in the summoning. Summoners would place items in the second outer ring of the circle, as an offering to the potential guardians. The more lavish or valuable the offerings, the more likely it would catch the attention of a powerful being. It was also an important way to show one’s knowledge of the race or particular family (if famous) to impress the potential guardian one wanted to court. Conversely, it was also the chance to repel certain guardians away by placing items they would not appreciate.

Moondew essence would repel werewolves as garlic would repel vampires. It wasn’t a complete guarantee but it often worked well enough for the summoners. Once in a while, an exception would occur due to the high affinity in magical signature which attracted the guardian. Such as his uncle Remus’ summon of Fenrir Greyback, another werewolf, even though he had been trying to repel his own species. Remus hadn’t bothered to renew the contract after the three years was up, deciding instead to be a guardian himself.

Harry placed a few expensive and rare ingredients as offerings onto the circle. His dad had spent a fortune to prepare a set like this; considered highly valuable to most coveted guardian races but also repulsive to the less popular races such as hags and trolls. 

Harry also knew that Ron had stolen some rare Basilisk venom from Professor Snape’s ingredients cupboard in order to scare away any Acromantulas who were considering his contract. Ron was likely to get into a lot of trouble for the thieving later, but he maintained that any punishment would be worth it.

He also offered up his prized item – the first Snitch he had caught in his first official Quidditch match. Lastly, he placed a round loaf of bread he had lovingly baked the day before and had kept fresh using charms. He knew after all that most potential matches would be watching the rituals through the day and like himself, would skip a few meals as a result. His bread would hopefully stave off the hunger of any races that would have missed out on hunting for food. As he bent down to put the offering, a few drops of sweat fell from his forehead and into the ritual ring. 

And that was his second great mistake. For a summoner should never allow any bodily parts or fluids to enter a ritual circle. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

The scion of Potter sat back down on his uncomfortable and threadbare cushion. He waved his wand over the ritual circle and chanted the words he had memorized at least a thousand times. The circle began to glow.

And now he would wait.  
_____________________________________________________________________

Harry sat in the silence as time ticked by.

He was tempted to cast a Tempus spell to check the time but he dared not for it could interfere with the ritual. Yet he was almost certain that he had been waiting for almost a whole day. The end of the summoning event was nigh and Harry fervently wished he would not be one of those leftovers without a successful guardian contract at its close.

So many hours had passed. He was hungry and his bladder was protesting. They had trained for such eventualities in their survival classes but it didn’t make the situation any more palatable. There were three possible scenarios which could have led to such an extended waiting time. The first and best situation was when a summoner’s contract was particularly in demand, and many of the best were locked in a competition to be the guardian. Harry had heard that Lord Grindelwald personally slaughtered his remaining competition in order to gain Headmaster Dumbledore’s contract. The second possible situation was the unpopularity of the summoner, leaving them as leftovers for whichever guardian picked them at the end. Even then they could probably find a guardian, as the bond allowed both parties access to increased magic and lifespan, among other benefits.

The last scenario, Harry didn’t want to think about it. It would mean that he had somehow screwed up in the ritual. In which case, the ritual circle would cease to glow and the offerings would remain untouched.

Harry gnawed at his bottom lip worriedly. In the midst of his growing anxiety, his headache from the hangover had subsided but was replaced with a strong sense of trepidation. The red cast in the booth suddenly looked sinister.

Time continued to tick by.

Harry was starting to panic in earnest by now.

As he twiddled his fingers restlessly, the runes in the third and fourth inner ring suddenly began to spin around. Harry sat up stock still and watched the process with both excitement and consternation. 

One by one, his offerings disappeared, until all that was left was the round loaf of bread he had baked. A column of light shone upwards from the two innermost rings, reaching the ceiling of the booth. A loud whistling sound was heard and black mist began to form over the floor of the booth, covering the boy’s lap from sight. The air grew unpleasantly cold, and the summoner swore that icicles had begun to form from the ceiling.

All this while, the column of light never faded.

After a moment or so, Harry scrambled back in shock and averted his eyes as the light grew blindingly bright. He eventually squeezed his eyes shut despite warnings to the contrary in his previous lessons, and waited until the light behind his lids had faded before he opened them once again. He wasn’t going to be blind if he could help it.

Taking a peek, he widened his eyes in shock at what greeted him.

A man who could not be more than thirty years of age was standing confidently in the circle. He had thick dark hair neatly parted on the right with a chiseled face that bordered on godly beauty and well-proportioned body that could not be described as anything else but perfection.

The man was tall and unbelievably handsome, but a man nonetheless.

A wizard. Harry had summoned a wizard. 

He was struck speechless as he watched the wizard bend down and pick up the last offering, cradling the loaf of bread in his left arm as if it were something special.

Harry could not believe it. A wizard! He was a strong defender of wizards’ rights, despite the unwelcoming climate towards those who were deemed magically too weak to be trained in the arts of summoning. He just didn’t agree with the discrimination of any race at all, including the wizards in society. They were still humans; sentient, conscious people. 

It was a jeer Malfoy never failed to make; that Harry would be cursed and punished for his outspoken arguments on equal rights of all living beings. He would thusly marry not another summoner but would be doomed to mate with a subpar witch or wizard. And here he was bonded to a wizard guardian for at least three years. Malfoy would feel so vindicated.

He hadn’t realized that he was just staring at the wizard until the man spoke.

“Are you going to remain kneeling in front of me for eternity? I honestly wouldn’t mind.” 

Harry startled out of his musings, so dazed that he could not muster a retort back. Great Merlin, was it not enough that the man looked so utterly stunning, did his voice have to be sin personified?

It was odd that his offerings did not attract other magical creatures. Did his tardiness really impacted his chances? Harry frankly did not mind a wizard guardian, even if he would be magically stronger than the latter with not much magical power to gain out of the contract. After all, who was he to protest if he campaigned regularly for equal rights with Hermione in public? This would be a perfect start to show he walked the talk. Except with a godly man such as this, he would be hard pressed not to develop a low self-esteem.

Harry stood up and walked towards the wizard, as the ritual circle faded away into nothing. It was odd, now that the magic of the ritual began to die down, Harry was suddenly aware of just how thick the magic surrounding the man was. His mouth gaped open. 

This guardian was unbelievably powerful.

The magic was almost stifling. Harry would venture to say this wizard was even more powerful than himself. And why would that be the case? Was he perhaps a summoner himself then? It was extremely rare though not unheard of, that some summoners chose to be a guardian themselves. Perhaps for experience and posterity sake.

“Hi. I. Erm. I’m Harry. Pleased to meet you.” He said, holding his hand out for the man to shake. He was shocked when the other grabbed his wrist instead and pulled him flush against the man. The grip was unrelenting.

Harry let out an unmanly yelp which he would deny to his dying breath under the strongest Crucio. He also squeaked something that sounded suspiciously like “Eep! Touchy!”

His addled mind registered that the man’s skin was cold as ice.

“Hello, Harry Potter,” the guardian spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, “Please call me Tom.” 

Harry shivered from the velvety voice speaking his name. It was not a deep bass like he had expected, but a soft tenor. Like the caress of a gentle breeze. He was so close to the man, Tom, that he could see the irises. They were a true, bottomless black, not dark brown as many others had. Harry felt as if his soul were laid bare and looked upon in its entirety.

“H-hi Tom. Uh… uh are y-you a… uh… are you a summoner?” Harry stuttered. He cursed his nerves. 

Tom tilted his head.

Huh, guess not.

“A…a wizard?”

Tom smiled mysteriously.

The raven-haired teen was getting more flustered by the minute in his current position. His verdant eyes valiantly attempting to look anywhere but at the man’s face that was almost pressed against his own, but failing rather spectacularly. 

“Well, Harry. Shall we settle the finer details of this contract?”

And that was his third great mistake – finalizing the contract.


	2. Lesson Two: It Takes Both Courage and Cunning to Win A Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked on editing this chapter quickly as a thank you for all the comments and kudos! Might have missed some errors... :X

Harry gingerly opened the door of his booth and peered around before stepping out. Tom followed closely behind. The suffocating waves of magic around the man had largely dissipated. Harry understood the wizard’s need for self-preservation by hiding his magical capacities, though he felt sad about it. 

The raven-haired summoner succeeded in negotiating what he believed to be a largely typical sort of contract, though Tom had remarked confidently that he believed it would extend far beyond the initial three years. They had decided to forgo the usual arrangement which would have included Tom performing his usual duties of guarding the summoner and protecting him from the worst of attacks while Harry focused on dealing damage to any foes that came their way. The reverse would have been true for guardians who specialized in dealing time-lapse damage – it was often difficult to work out the right sort of team dynamics.

Harry figured neither would work optimally given the circumstances, and hence proposed a clause to allow for a more equal spread of skills. 

They discussed and settled on all the important bits and bobs after Harry magically emptied his bladder and relieved himself. Harry had wanted to finish it up as quickly as possible - enough time had been spent just waiting in the booth and the teen’s patience was waning rapidly.

They had a small but nice chat subsequently, during which Harry found Tom pleasant, though a little demanding and given to avoiding questions more than Harry liked. 

Tom had no dietary restrictions though he told Harry in no uncertain terms that he was not fond of sweet desserts. “I do not want cavities.” The man had explained.

He also managed to practically strong-arm Harry into taking responsibility for feeding him. Harry understood this as generally cooking good food and baking breads for him as sealed into the contract. Harry would have to let Tom know just how good the food at Hogwarts was; it would take some of the burden off his shoulders.

It struck Harry that Tom was the sort of person to get what he wanted. 

Fellowship training would have him likely assigned to Professor Flitwick who was a half-goblin summoner that specialized in teaching summoners with wizard, elf, fae and goblin guardians. 

As he stepped into the hall that was teeming with graduate students and their guardians, Harry was immediately greeted by the welcome sight of his friends. They must have left their respective booths earlier than he did. He was sure he had been one of the last, and here they were waiting for him.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, enveloping him in a tight hug.

“Sorry mate, I wanted to get you from the dormitories when I realized you weren’t here, but McGonagall wouldn’t let me.” Ron was quick to clarify.

“That’s alright.” Harry replied and patted Ron’s arm magnanimously.

Hermione startled then as she saw Tom and did a double take. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’.

“So… a wizard huh?” Ron said, looking rather uncomfortable, as if he was searching for ways to comfort his best friend’s misfortune without insulting the guardian in question. And yet, neither said any derisive remarks. Harry was never prouder of them then at that very moment.

“Yes, this is Tom. Tom, these are my best friends, Ron and Hermione.”  
Tom nodded and unleashed a charming smile at his friends. The brunette and ginger instantly blushed to the roots of their hair and proceeded to gape at Tom stupidly. Ron was by no means diminutive in size, but even he had to look up to gaze at the other man.

Harry snorted. Trust his guardian to be a charmer. He cleared his throat to gain their attention.

“So. Ahem. Where are your guardians?” 

“Oh!” Hermione said embarrassedly. “They are wandering around somewhere, we’ve been waiting outside your booth for almost five hours and they wanted to speak to a few other guardians they were familiar with.”

Harry felt a small pang of guilt at that. He was glad to have such supportive friends.

“Ah! There’s my guardian!” Ron chirped happily. “She’s standing at the banquet tables. Come on. Let’s go have some food. I bet you’re starving, Harry.”

Ron dragged Harry over to the tables at the side of the summoning hall, where sumptuous dishes of all types were laid out for both summoners and guardians to feast upon. 

Harry came face to face with a voluptuous beauty with long black curls reaching her waist. A low cut dress of deep indigo hugged her curves flatteringly, and made her fair skin look even paler. Her eyes had the telltale tint of red which marked the demon race. While her face showed a woman who was in her early forties, her eyes spoke of wisdom that spanned centuries. It seemed that Ron had gotten what he wanted.

“Her name’s Lucretia, she’s a member of the royal demon family of Blacks.” Ron said smugly.

The demoness looked sharply over at Harry and Tom, eyes widening a mere fraction before dipping her head in acknowledgement. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She murmured.

“Black?” Harry asked interestedly. “Any relation to Sirius Black?”

Lucretia smiled. “A cousin many times removed. He’s a hybrid demon, human and banshee, is he not? I understand there’s a younger Regulus Black as well.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. His godfather had one of the most interesting family trees. It was nice to meet another Black. He liked Regulus too, though Sirius always complained that his brother was too uptight. “Regulus is too Sirius!” His godfather would say, all the while guffawing with a goofy grin as if he had made the funniest joke in the world. 

Harry gave a wide smile to Lucretia who returned it with one of her own. It said a lot about Ron’s raw and latent magical talent if he scored a guardian as powerful as a member of the Black family, despite his school results to the contrary. He glanced at his best mate and tried not to laugh as Ron visibly preened when other students glanced over enviously.

Lucretia, however, was paying no attention to her summoner at this point. Harry was puzzled when he noticed her unwavering stare at Tom’s feet. He looked over at his guardian’s boots. 

Yes they were indeed very nice and polished to an exaggerated shine at the tip, with sculpted dragonhide from the foot all the way to the calves, and finished with delicate gleaming silver buckles along the sides. Tom must be a very rich wizard to afford boots of such fine quality and make. Well, either Lucretia liked those boots or she had a foot fetish, he surmised.

Hermione let out a squeal as she looked somewhere behind Harry.

“Over here, Luna!” 

Harry had barely turned when another guardian came into view. This time, an ethereal-looking Fae in glistening silver robes bounced over to Hermione. She had the softest blonde hair, a dreamy smile on her face and unnaturally large eyes that made her look like she was eternally surprised.

“Hello, I’m Luna of the Lovegoods.” Hermione was almost hopping with excitement as she recounted how Luna appeared and admitted that the books and grimoires Hermione offered were much appreciated. Harry chose not to mention the entire month that Hermione had struggled with the very thought of parting with those books. 

It had taken a nifty spell of Headmaster Dumbledore’s which replicated the books not just in content but also in essence to elevate the metaphorical black clouds that had hung over her head.

Luna then turned to Tom and gave a small curtsy.

“Greetings again, Miss Lovegood.” Tom said quietly. Harry tilted his head and looked at Tom, the silent question obvious. 

“We’ve met before on my travels.” Tom stated simply. 

Shrugging, Harry decided to ignore the half-assed reply and take some food and engage in conversation with his friends and their new guardians. The hall had already cleared mostly, leaving those who were there to socialize or wait for their friends. Most of the other trainees were at the Quidditch pitch having a party and showing off their new guardians as was tradition each year. He would have to wait till the next day if he wanted to take a gander at the other guardians to join them at Hogwarts this year.

It seemed as if his friends had found their ideal summons, while Harry as always was the one with an unpredictable result. Regardless, Harry was content to soak in some of this relaxing atmosphere. He could now freely admit to himself that he was almost hyperventilating, convinced that he had failed his ritual. He was glad it was not the case!

He was also pleasantly surprised to find out the many common interests he shared with his new guardian. And Tom had said he liked freshly baked bread. Harry could not be more pleased. Everything was going swimmingly well until his eardrums were blasted by the most obnoxious voice at a clearly unhealthy decibel level.

“No way! Tell me it isn’t so! Potter’s got a _wizard_ guardian!” Draco Malfoy shouted, laughing so hard that he was bent at the waist and gasping for breath.

Harry scowled and stood in front of Tom protectively. His guardian merely looked amused. Meanwhile, Ron and Lucretia had also stepped forward and the latter had a rather vicious expression on her otherwise beautiful face.

Draco sauntered over with his gaggle of sidekicks, gearing himself up for a session of Mock-the-Potter. The hall had fell deathly silent as summoners and guardians alike tried to get a closer look at the spectacle unfolding.

“Piss off Malfoy.” Harry grumbled. He would have wanted to be more assertive, but it did not help that Malfoy’s guardian was towering over them, barely contained by the ceiling of the magically-expanded gargantuan summoning hall. Apparently Malfoy had scored a Hebridean Black dragon. It was, admittedly, impressive. And Malfoy knew it too. 

He was looking down his nose at Harry which wasn’t hard given Harry’s small stature. Not to mention that Draco was rather tall from both his father’s elven blood and his mother’s demon heritage.

The raven-haired teen was far from afraid of fighting dragons. They were dark creatures and he exceled in defeating them. But Hebridean Blacks tended to be particularly aggressive, especially when they found themselves in an enclosed area such as this one. Even if the ceiling was expanded to an immense height to accommodate larger summons such as dragons and giants, it was still considered too small a space for this particular breed. Not wanting any bystanders hurt, Harry thought it might be important to avoid anything that could lead to an explicit fight. Prudence! His mother would advise.

He would have otherwise made a bitchy comment on how good the pair looked together with their matching snooty expressions, horse faces and squinty eyes. 

“I told you your foolish views would come back to bite you.” Malfoy sneered. He leered at Tom looking at him from head to toe tauntingly. “Not a bad looking wizard, but that’s all he’s going to be good for. You can ask him to parade around the tournament and hope your superior opponents will cut you some slack for a few nights with him in return.”

Harry saw red then. He could tolerate many insults to his person but never to someone whom he considered a friend or family. And while he barely knew Tom, as his guardian, he was entitled to the full range of Harry’s care and friendship. 

He straightened up in righteous fury while from the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione and Luna stiffening, as Ron growled and Lucretia hissed threateningly. 

As Malfoy made to open his mouth for another scathing remark, the demoness snarled and stalked menacingly forward.

Malfoy’s dragon instantly shifted to a more aggressive position, scattering the bystanders rather quickly. Before he could act, Tom placed a light hand on Harry’s shoulder, sending calming waves to his summoner.

“Play nice, Harry.” Tom whispered in his ear. Harry attempted to take deep breaths, understanding instantly what Tom was getting at.

Through the anger-induced haze, he saw Malfoy stiffen, the blonde’s eyes shooting from right to left as if he was fearful of something. The dragon released a soft whine, so at odds with its initial aggression. But that couldn’t be, right? His mind must be playing tricks on him. Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Well Malfoy, let’s see what happens in the tournament, shall we? Until then, stay the hell away from us.” He strode away quickly, his hand gripping Tom’s rather tightly as they turned and left the summoning hall without waiting to see the snooty blonde’s reaction.

He vaguely heard his friends’ footsteps as they followed closed behind. 

Harry didn’t stop until he had reached their common room, Tom’s long legs keeping pace with him easily. The common room was thankfully empty. His friends and their guardians joined them but remained silence. The tension was palpable.

Harry punched the wall with his bare fist, ignoring the pain that lanced up his arm while he fought to keep down the fury lashing through him. He practiced his meditative techniques, taught to him by his mother once she noticed his periodic anger outbursts. She had thought it might be due to his particular brand of magic. His secret.

Deep calming breaths. Be rational. 

Separate the angry emotions from the incident. Isolate the thought first, what was it that made him angry?

He continued through all the steps until he was finally calm. Eventually, he became aware that his guardian, his friends both old and new were seated in their usual corner and chatting quietly, respectfully and tactfully giving him space.

Harry felt ashamed. Despite the grievous insult thrown at their feet, his own guardian was unfazed and casually relaxed in his favourite gold and red couch, looking like the epitome of royalty in his luxurious dark green fitted robes. 

Harry ambled over to the group and smiled gratefully at them, his blush speaking volumes of his embarrassment at his almost lack of control and the resulting close shave. This was no way to make a first impression on his friends’ guardians. He was sincere in getting to know them better though. He hoped he could soon count them among his friends.

The group quickly included him in the conversation, which was revolving around Luna and Lucretia’s registered separate accommodation arrangements from their summoners (though they would be bunking in two rooms just right down the corridor). The discussion then shifted to which professors Hermione and Ron would have their fellowship under. 

“Snape! I’m going to get Snape! Bloody hell!” Ron moaned, dunking his head miserably into his hands.

“ _Professor_ Snape.” Hermione corrected. “I don’t see why you’re complaining. He’s only one of the foremost experts on dark guardians.”

“You neglected to mention he has a friggin’ _dementor_ as a guardian and now all my happiness will be sucked out of me over the next three years.”

Hermione understandably did not have much to say to that. She simply looked at her boyfriend with a smidgen of sympathy.

“You’ll probably train with Malfoy as well. Summoners with dragon guardians have traditionally been attached to Professor Snape.”

Ron glared at Hermione. “Yes well, thanks for that! Real helpful! Really makes my mood _so much better_!”

“I’m glad I’m having Professor Flitwick though. Harry’s going to be attached to him too. So we’ll be training together, Harry!” Hermione quickly carried on.

“Yes, I wonder who else we will be training with… I didn’t see any other Faes or wizards in the hall.”

“There might have been one with an elf guardian who left before you were done. I did not get a very good look, but I expect we’ll be seeing them in two days' time.”

“It’s just an introductory session ‘Mione. The real practical training doesn’t begin until weeks later.”

“Well I think it’s time for us to tuck in then? It’s really late now and we have another early day filling up all the registration forms tomorrow. I don’t think I can afford to be late again. Did you know McGonagall’s Cat Sidhe tsk-ed at me for being late?”

The rest laughed and parted ways, with Ron and Hermione showing their guardians to the new rooms that had magically appeared in the corridor. Harry was sure that his best friends were going to have a big snogging session as celebration later and he didn’t want to be anywhere near them when it happened.

He smiled at Tom and headed to their shared room, the wizard’s hand resting casually on his back. It caused a pleasant tingle along his spine.

Living arrangements for Tom were to presently be Harry’s room while he was undergoing fellowship training. There was no clear rules to arrange separate accommodations as he would have if he had summoned guardians like trolls or werewolves.

Harry had worried that Tom’s status as a wizard would paint a big target on his back by fellow summoners and guardians. Tom agreed that he did have experience of being targeted quite a bit in general. Even though the raven-haired summoner figured he might feel a little unused to sharing his room again, he was not likely to feel too uncomfortable. It had after all been shared dormitories for the majority of his schooling life. 

As was a well-understood trend in Hogwarts and other summoning schools, students would eventually drop out over the course of the years, either due to the difficulty of the courses or simply because they did not have sufficient magical strength to move on to the next level. Harry had seen many of his classmates leave over time, most likely enrolling in one of the wizarding schools instead. This gave plenty of space for them to sleep in single rooms as they moved up the years.

There were of course exceptions to the rule, mostly because some parents could afford to donate large sums of money to Hogwarts in order to keep their children in the school. Harry would count Crabbe and Goyle as firmly placed in this category.

With that in mind, the summoner had suggested earlier on that it would be better to share a room since the teen didn’t want anything untoward happening to his guardian if he was located on the opposite end of the corridor.

As they entered Harry’s, and now also Tom’s room, they found another a four poster bed covered in black quilt with a replica of Harry’s cabinet, table and drawers next to the bed. The room had more or less doubled in size to accommodate the new resident. Hogwarts always knew what to do. Harry spent the next few minutes giving a quick tour to Tom. He tried to ignore the wizard wrinkling his nose at all the gold and red themed furniture. 

“Where’s the shower?” Tom asked, and Harry led him to a door at the back of the room. 

“You can use the towels on the right, that way we won’t mix them up. The shampoo and soap is over here. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Oh no, I’m not going to shower. You are.”

“What?” 

“You smell bad. You should wash up.” Tom said nonchalantly.

“What!?” Harry asked incredulously.

Before he could register it, he had his outer robe, shirt and trousers removed rapidly by magic. Tom placed his palms on the raven-haired boy’s bare skin and the summoner was manhandled into the shower before his guardian left the bathroom and closed the door behind him. 

Harry felt blindsided as he stood there stunned for a moment in his boxers. Slowly regaining his senses, he raised his arm and gingerly took a whiff of himself.

Yea. He needed a shower.

It was in retrospect, a good decision. The shower proved to be just what the summoner needed, relaxing his mind and body, washing away the remnants of any aches and anxieties of the day before he toweled dry and dressed in his comfy pajamas to head to bed. 

He lay there, mind running a mile a minute as he tried to push down the excitement bubbling in his chest. He was truly happy. A proper summoner with a successful guardian contract under his belt! He could cry tears of happiness. At this rate, he wasn’t going to fall asleep.

He looked to his left where his guardian had his bed curtains partially drawn. 

“Tom?” He called out in a whisper, wanting to ask the question on his mind yet not wanting to wake the man up. The curtains drew open with a casual wave of Tom’s hand. He quirked a brow in Harry’s direction.

“Why…” he wasn’t sure how to say this right but he was going to take a shot at it anyway. “How did you keep so calm despite what Malfoy said?”

Tom laughed, a beautiful melodious sound like windchimes on a hot summer day.

“My dear Harry. It takes courage to stand up against your enemies. It takes cunning to win the fight. Train hard with me and we shall take centre stage at the tournament.” His voice was quiet but carried easily.

Despite the unsavoury public opinion of wizard capabilities, Harry could not help but feel comforted by Tom’s confidence. He fell silent again, turning over the day’s events in his mind.

“Tom?”

“Mm?”

A pause.

“Thank you for being my guardian. I… I’m really happy.”

Harry fell asleep to the image of Tom’s soft smile. He never saw the large hungry grin stretched inhumanly wide that Tom sported after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The foundation will be set over the next few chapters. I have quite a bit to edit for Chapter 3, so you can expect that about next week.


	3. Lesson Three: Introductory Classes Provide Unexpectedly Valuable Content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An unexpectedly free day so I worked on this! There is a companion piece for this chapter, which you can find either [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11959611/chapters/27042696) or under the same Summoning Series, Part 2: Breadcrumbs. The point in this chapter which the companion piece is meant to add on to, is marked with a ++ sign.

Harry rose the morning of his first training session with Flitwick, feeling as if he hadn’t had much sleep. It had been like this over the past two days. He knew he had an odd dream but could not remember much more than a pair of red eyes. Upon finding their ensuite shower occupied by Tom already, he decided he would better spend the time writing some letters to update his family on his fellowship progress. He was already late on that front.

> Dear Mum and Dad,
> 
> It’s a resounding success! I have completed my first guardian summoning ritual and I want to share with you the happy news that I now have a contract with a (I suspect) very powerful wizard. The ritual took almost a full day, after which I was too tired to write so I’m making up for it this morning. My guardian’s named Tom Riddle and he’s been rather nice so far. I hope this continues and I will get to be good friends with him, even if we do not extend our contract in the future. There’s quite a bit we seem to have in common with, including our love of good food, flying (but he doesn’t like Quidditch! Blasphemy!), duels and more esoteric magic. But of course that’s just the few things we’ve talked about, he seems to know about many things so I look forward to having more conversations with him. Fingers crossed that we will work well together and if our magical affinities match, then even better!
> 
> Love,  
>  Harry
> 
> p.s. Thanks Dad for the ritual offerings package. I know that they were expensive and with a guardian like Tom, I’d like to think they worked.  
>  p.p.s. Mum, Malfoy’s got a dragon like you once had. The only one from our school this time, I think. It’s a Hebridean Black.

Harry did not send a separate letter to Uncle Remus, knowing that his father often updated his werewolf guardian on whatever letters he had sent to his family.

> Hey Padfoot,
> 
> My guardian’s a wizard! And before you ask, yes I screwed up, but no it’s not because I played a prank. In truth, I was late to the summoning class. Don’t tell my mum and dad, but also, I don’t know how long I can keep it a secret from them. You know I’m not that great at hiding things from mum.
> 
> By the way, have you ever heard of the family name of Riddle? I haven’t found anything and my guardian isn’t very forthcoming. If you have time to access the registry, let me know if you find anything!
> 
> In other more exciting news for you, Ron’s guardian is a friendly demoness named Lucretia. Ring any bells? She’s another Black! Have you met her before?
> 
> Love,  
>  Harry 

Finishing up with his letters, he packed them neatly into his bag to be sent later. Tom had completed the process of his morning ablutions and Harry had a quick wash of his face and brushed his teeth. He quickly pumped a dollop of Uncle Severus’ Sev’emRight hair potion and spread it on his scalp to prevent any greasiness from accumulating through the day. ++

By the time he left the bathroom, Tom was waiting for him by the desk, looking a little bored and perfectly groomed and attired. Looking nothing short of perfect. 

Harry cleared his throat, walked up to the man and nervously twiddled his fingers. Tom closed the gap until they were almost entirely pressed up against each other. It did not help Harry’s nerves.

“So umm, Tom, I know we agreed that I would be contractually responsible for feeding you but uh, I don’t always have time to cook and so I thought that maybe now you’ve tried the food at Hogwarts, I could maybe just bake some breads for you until our schedule lets up a little.”

It was a tricky thing to navigate with these contracts but if both agreed on the way a clause was to be carried out, on the ‘concept’ of any of the clauses, then it could still be considered valid. Harry should have thought of this a little more carefully two days back, but he had been in a hurry to get it done. And he _had_ been really tired. It would be wise to look more carefully at the contract again and see what he might have missed, but he would do that when he had more time.

Tom smiled as if he were enjoying an inside joke. 

“Of course. Besides, I’m not that hungry now. But let’s make our way down regardless.”

They headed off to the Great Hall, and Harry made a detour to the Mail Centre to send his letters off first. Tom looked rather intrigued at the massive room which accommodated millions upon millions of letter transfer boxes for all Hogwarts students, staff and other personnel. Owls of all types were flying around the room, whizzing past their heads and hovering over columns of boxes. 

Harry knew there were far fewer students in Hogwarts so he figured some boxes were there to be rerouted to well… actually Harry had no real theory as to why there were so many boxes. It wasn’t his area of interest to figure out such stuff anyway. This was and had always been more Hermione’s thing. Harry was content with just using the service.

He pulled out his designated letter transfer box from its drawer slot which had his name Harry James Potter emblazoned in gold. He carefully laid the two letters in the box with a card of the recipient and address stuck to the top of each letter. He slid the box back in and watched as it glowed blue. He pulled it halfway out again to check whether the letters had been successfully sent and pushed it back, satisfied. 

Harry turned to find Tom fiddling with a few other boxes and waving his long bone-white wand at them. Harry could not help a smile from surfacing. He wondered if the wizarding schools had the transfer boxes too, and though he assumed they had, there was a probability that it remained a privilege for the teaching staff only. He had been told the history of how letter transfer boxes came to be when he was younger. 

There were speculations that the magical miasma of the world appearing some 5000 years ago were what led to the increased intelligence of owls. Whatever the cause, the creatures which were traditionally used for all forms of package and letter mailing had eventually organized themselves and formed a powerful Owls Trade Union, leading to a workers’ strike against the unfair labour conditions of long-haul flying and overtime duties. Eventually, summoners and wizards came to an agreement with the owls that flight time would only be applicable to parcels, and letters were to be sent via a transfer system managed solely by the owls. It was only established a millennia ago but it worked well. 

After waiting for a good half hour, the raven-haired summoner gave up and proceeded to drag Tom away from the boxes he was so fascinated with. As he left the room, Harry dropped a knut at the payment counter and nodded in acknowledgement at the Chief Operations Owl, which was recognisable by the distinct pair of blue-tinted sunglasses perched on its beak.

Unfortunately due to the delay, by the time they reached the Great Hall, it was packed with students and Harry had to peer over the crowds to try and find his friends. He eventually spotted Ron, Hermione, Luna and Lucretia seated at one of the long tables for fellowship trainees. 

As he walked over to his friends, he was stopped in place abruptly, stunned by a sight he would never forget.

Harry could not be too sure what the creature was; standing over at the side of one table with its hands clasped demurely in front of it. Upon closer observation, he deduced it was most likely a troll. Yes… he was pretty sure it was a troll.

An unusually short and squat troll. He was clued in to its likely gender by the bright pink ribbons that sat atop its head, though he could be wrong for all he knew. Just look at Dumbledore! The creature also had a toad-like face. How unusual. Harry decided it must have been unfortunately overexposed to magical miasma. He didn’t know how he managed to miss it in the Great Hall yesterday. 

“Who’s the one who summoned that troll?” Harry asked as he and Tom slipped into the two empty seats.

“Dunno.” said Ron with his mouth full of food, at the same time Hermione announced “Pansy Parkinson” with a triumphant smirk on her face.

Harry chortled. That news alone made his day. 

He did believe trolls were just as deserving of equal rights as all other creatures, but he could not help disliking them. He blamed it on Quirrell’s guardian who went rogue in their first year and stuck him, Ron and Hermione in a lake of its snot for five hours. It was traumatising to say the least.

The conversation the four were having, before the additions to their group, picked up once more. Harry joined in on the discussion and gossips of each summoner and guardian that could be seen in the Great Hall, as well as Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s matching putrid pink robes. The first few days after the summoning was a good time for all trainees to scrutinise the guardians joining their numbers this year. Sadly, most of the student body had returned home after the examinations in May. June till September was entirely reserved for fellowship training. 

However, just as it was yesterday, he could not help but notice the large number of students both male and female who were unabashedly staring at Tom. Harry was initially worried that they thought Tom an easy target for bullying, but it seemed he was mistaken. 

His guardian’s allure looked to have far surpassed that of Lucretia’s seductiveness or Luna’s soft glow, if the onlookers’ ogling was anything to go by. The man in question paid no mind to all the attention he was receiving. He only nodded politely when Lavender introduced herself to him while battling her eyelashes. It made a mildly warm feeling blossom in Harry’s chest. But he paid the sensation no mind. 

Tom, he noticed, seemed rather pleased with the hearty breakfast served. However, the wizard grimaced when Harry gobbled up two treacle tarts in quick succession. 

Harry supposed their shared interests had to diverge somewhere. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The quartet made their way back to the common room while Harry and Tom returned to the Mail Centre. They had at least two hours more before their introductory training session with Flitwick would commence. Harry hoped he could sneak in a few more letter writings during the meantime, assuming his parents and godfather had already replied.

When he arrived to the Mail Centre, he made an instant beeline to his box which was clearly glowing red, a signal that letters had arrived from the corresponding transfer box in his home, or perhaps’ Sirius’ home. Tom had stationed himself in front of the same boxes that had so fascinated him earlier in the morning.

The summoner pulled out his box, grabbed his letters and greedily devoured its contents.

> Hey Prongslet!
> 
> How terrible, being late on a day like that! I had a good laugh from that kiddo, it’s nothing new if you considered what James, Remus and I got up to in the past. I’ve heard the rest from James and Lily, by the way. 
> 
> So! A wizard, huh? I wasn’t quite expecting that. With how powerful you are, (and I’m wiggling my brows now), always thought you’d get an imp or dragon. Maybe even a vampire or Fae. I reckon it was your baked bread that drew your wizard in. Way to a bloke’s heart is always through the stomach. Word of advice kiddo, you best be keeping an eye on your Tom. Wizard guardians have it tough and you sure as hell don’t want the bullies getting to him. I have looked through the registry countless of times, I can tell you with certainty that there are no Riddles on record. So yea, no surprise there, because he’s a wizard. We _are_ still arguing with the Summoners Confederation to get the wizarding family names into the registry but don’t expect it in the next few years.
> 
> I have not met Lucretia but stories about this demoness are aplenty. Trust me, none of them are good. I don’t know what your friend Ron did, but boy do I feel sorry for him now. He’s in over his head now. Like most Black demons, Lucretia’s bound to be aloof and self-serving – ready to leave her summoner in danger at the drop of a hat. 
> 
> Need I remind you about a certain horror named Bellatrix? Granted, Lucretia is probably a little better than Bellatrix. Okay maybe a lot better. But I’ll be honest with you, pup. I don’t want you spending too much time with her.
> 
> Lots of hugs,  
>  Padfoot 

Harry chuckled as he read the letter. Sirius was always so dramatic. It was funny how similar his godfather and Ron sounded at times. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Tom had relocated himself to the payment counter where he was currently pestering the Chief Operations Owl with questions. Harry began on the next letter.

> My dear baby,
> 
> Congratulations on contracting your first guardian! We’re really happy for you. My boy’s all grown up now! I know you’ve tried to hide it but your father and I could not help but notice how stressed you were over the past month, taking both your exams and preparing for such an important summoning in your life. 
> 
> We have decided to prepare a lovely dinner for you when you come home for Yule so that we may take time as a family to celebrate this major milestone in your life. Remus and Sirius will be there too, of course. 
> 
> That being said, we’re perfectly capable of reading between the lines, and Harry dear, we know there’s something you’re not telling us. Remus is certain that the offerings would have attracted a powerful guardian including those of the dark variety. And regardless of your father’s less than ideal experience with Bellatrix, he would not fault you for having a dark guardian which would doubtlessly give your magical core an advantageous boost, especially so early on in your life. Your father and Remus are worried that you may have felt pressure to repel any dark guardians in your pitch. 
> 
> I confess that I find myself believing you wrote a pitch to attract wizard guardians. And if you did, I just wanted to let you know that I will stand behind your decisions. But I also want to reiterate that while we are firm supporters of the equal rights cause, I do not wish you to think you have to prove anything through the guardian you summoned. 
> 
> I’m glad you find your wizard guardian powerful. As we have always believed, they are trained in a different manner from summoners and are likely to excel in other magical arts in their own ways. It would also give me peace of mind when you begin your field training sessions in this school year. 
> 
> Do extend an invitation to Tom to join our family for the Yule celebrations. We would love to meet your guardian and get to know him better.
> 
> Love,  
>  Mum and Dad
> 
> p.s. Your father says you are welcome, and he has just left with Remus for another quest. He sends his love.
> 
> p.p.s. Yes indeed, I have heard. The poor dragon, I can’t imagine how claustrophobic it feels surrounded by the many buildings of Hogwarts. By the way, that particular piece of news has been making the rounds. An article of Draco and his guardian also appeared on the cover of Summoness Daily, with a tiny Hebridean Black model as a complimentary gift. I admit I do not look forward to the next tea session with Narcissa and the others; she will be nigh unbearable.

Harry was feeling more than a little guilty now. He knew his mother tried her best to remain a role model in his life, being both strict while giving him space to grow as a person. She was quite the antithesis to his father who often went out of his way to be reckless. Harry didn’t know how she would react if he told her he had stupidly written his name in the pitch and offered sweat to his guardian. _Shite._ He was feeling embarrassed just thinking about it. He had smashed his head on the desk once he reviewed the ritual. The floor did not open up and swallow him. It never did. How disappointing.

Would it be bad if he told nobody about it? He just really wanted to avoid trouble. He had quite enough to worry about with keeping his other secret. It was like Uncle Sev always said, he had to learn to manage himself better. Maybe he’d talk to Tom about it… at a more appropriate time. 

The raven-haired teen turned to Tom to ask him whether he had other plans for Yule and would he like to join Harry and his family. Instead, he bore witness to the wizard having a stare down with the owl, the former glaring with his arms folded tightly across his chest and the latter with its feathers puffed up threateningly and its large yellow eyes visible over the sunglasses perched precariously near the tip of its cruelly curved beak. 

“Ooookay! Time to go.” Harry said, dragging Tom for the second time out of the Mail Centre. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a wise idea to bring the wizard here.

“What was your problem with Sir Hootaway?”

“Nothing.” Tom replied coolly.

Harry shook his head exasperatedly, deciding not to pursue the matter. 

“Come on then, we should be heading to our first training class now.”

They walked leisurely to the large grounds reserved for Flitwick’s trainees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and were the first to reach and settled themselves down on a dry patch of grass. The pair sat in comfortable silence for a few moments until it was broken by the wizard.

“Tell me about this place… the forest I mean. Why do you call it the Forbidden Forest?”

“Ahh that is a long story, but to keep it short, it is said that there are a few herds of monsters residing deeper in the forest. Thus we are quite literally forbidden to enter. Thing is, it’s always been a rite of passage of sorts for sixth year students to enter the forest on the night of Samhain and return the next morning. A test of courage if you will. It’s been so many generations and nothing has yet happened to anyone. At least, nothing that we’ve heard of.”

“Have you been through this rite of passage yourself?”

“Yes of course!” Harry laughed. “I hesitate to say that it was a matter of preference because I couldn’t care less, but it’s the sort of thing that students couldn’t get away with not doing.” 

“Have you ever seen a monster before, Harry?”

“Well, not exactly. We’ve had diagrams of them, some pictures and paintings. And my parents have told me plenty about them. I think the school makes the utmost effort to clear all monsters out the way for any of our field practicals.”

Tom frowned, his eyes of darkest night narrowing as he peered into the forest. At that moment, Harry had the strangest thought that Tom could see far beyond what others were normally capable of. After all, he himself was only able to make out a few spots in between the dense growth of trees.

“Don’t go back in there again,” the dark brunet said quietly.

“What? Why? What’s happened?” 

“I’d say you and the other students were lucky you did not encounter any of the herds. More likely the school covered up any possible incidents that have happened thus far.”

Harry was about to protest when the other students began to show up and he was inconveniently distracted by the sight of Luna rolling gracefully across the grass at much the same pace as Hermione was walking. 

Trailing a ways behind them was Theodore Nott who had clearly forgotten his manners with his mouth gaping wide open at the strange sight in front of him. His high elf guardian shot a look of great condescension upon Harry as he picked himself off the grass. Merlin forbid that high elves ever be caught with their bums on anything but a stick. 

Introductions went around, during which Nott’s high elf, Celion, seemed unable to keep his periwinkle blue eyes off Tom. Harry raised his left brow. It appeared that Tom would soon be getting a fanclub at this rate. The raven-haired teen was less than happy though, when Celion blatantly turned his tall nose up at him, after he offered the high elf his hand to shake. 

“Welcome my lovely trainees and guardians!” a high-pitched voice squeaked, causing the group to snap to attention. Professor Flitwick, half-goblin and dueling champion extraordinaire, bounded into view, his dryad companion nowhere to be seen. But of course one couldn’t physically tie their guardians to them all the time, it would be very stifling for both parties. 

“I see you are all acquainted with one another now. Yes?” Though his students towered over him, the half-goblin’s commanding presence seemed to achieve the opposite effect of him looming over them instead.

“To the summoner trainees, I am truly glad to know that at least some among your cohort have gained the partnership of guardians so closely related to our kind. While you may hear that guardians such as fae, elves, wizards, and goblins are inferior to the coveted raw power of the dragons or demons, this could not be further from the truth. Dementors, imps, demons, dragons and those of their ilk tend to be overwhelmingly dominant in the relationship, creating an imbalance that is often detrimental to either party in the long term. Guardians such as the ones standing with us today have proven themselves to be the most supportive and equal in the sacred partnership between a summoner and a guardian. Therein lies our strength and our true advantage. For this reason, the main focus of your time here under my tutelage would be to hone this advantage to a sharp precision, where in spite of dangers, whether you be together or apart, you would feel nothing but utter confidence and trust in your partners.”

Here, Professor Flitwick paused to survey his trainees, both summoners and guardians. 

“And so I hope that both of you, two halves of a whole in the partnership will work hard over these three years. You should aim to revise your theoretical understanding before we commence our first practical lesson two weeks later. I will grade you based on not the absolute performance on each task, but rather the extent of your improvement over time. For the rest of this lesson, I would like all of you to write down on the provided parchment, what you hope to achieve in this partnership over the course of the next three years. After you are done, you may leave the parchments here and take your leave.”

That’s all? Harry thought. Well, he wouldn’t complain about Flitwick not setting them any surprise tests – he wasn’t Hermione. He proceeded to write a number of things on his parchment, feeling a little embarrassed but justified at the part he wrote regarding his hope for Tom to become a lifelong friend of his.

By the time he was done, Tom had already completed his and was waiting patiently to the side for Harry. Hermione was still writing, filling up more than double the amount of parchment Harry had used. Luna was off to another corner playing with what seemed to be imaginary butterflies. Nott was handing in his assignment at the same time while Celion was nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick observed them shrewdly. 

When Hermione completed her writing at long last, the four of them idled around the edge of the forest, as their professor took off in the direction of the castle.

“Well!” said Hermione, “That was very enlightening!”

“Hmm? I don’t see how. Wasn’t it just an introductory speech?” Harry said puzzled. 

“No, you silly! Professor Flitwick has just about given us all the hints we need to do well under his tutelage.” She sighed upon seeing the continued look of bewilderment on the face of her long-time friend. 

“Supportive? Equal? Sacred partnership? Two halves of a whole? Or better yet; ‘Therein lies our strength and our true advantage’. It’s obvious! He will definitely be testing us on these two criteria; our capacity matching levels and magical affinities! Really, Harry. I thought you would know by now that the professors’ expectations are usually revealed in the first lesson.”

“Clever.” Tom praised the bushy-haired summoner, making her blush red as a tomato. He hadn’t been lying though, he knew that assessments of any sort were easier to overcome with strategy and technique.

“That’s not all of course,” she continued on a roll, “Professor Flitwick is likely to test us in situations where we may be forced to cooperate while physically apart. He has hinted that quite clearly. He’s also looking for improvement, and we can take it to mean that it’s in our advantage to enter into our first practical lesson in the most natural state, with no prior training. It would be an accurate gauge of our starting point and give us more room to improve.” 

“That’s going to be hard for you ‘Mione. Since when do you take part in lessons without an excessive amount of preparation?”

Tom did not mention that Flitwick had already begun his assessment of the group, and Celion would have points docked for leaving his summoner after he had finished writing on his parchment. For all that Tom understood the nuances and hints in Flitwick’s speech, he really couldn’t be bothered with the tests and grades. He was far more interested in other things. He hadn’t come here for the usual purposes as most of the other guardians had after all. 

And for that reason, he would sit back and watch the destruction that would befall the Nott boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the one where Tom 'outs' himself to you all. :p


	4. Lesson Four: Dialogue and Communication are at the Heart of Good Relations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me if the updates are slower at this point. This writing style (simplistic, more upbeat) remains rather experimental for me. I enjoy the challenge of writing something outside of my comfort zone but unfortunately I just haven't been in the right mood for it. So my speed of editing has decreased somewhat. Do pardon any grammatical/spelling errors/etc that I have failed to pick out.
> 
> For this chapter, there's another companion piece which once again will make sense after the point marked by a **++** sign.  
>  The companion piece can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11959611/chapters/27220326).

Harry posted his next batch of letters at the Mail Centre after a long day of revision work in the library. He had a number of thank you notes to send out for the congratulatory gifts he had received too. As he arrived, he found the Mail Centre in a great flurry of activity and he wondered what was happening. Sir Hootaway was nowhere to be seen. Looking up, he noticed a couple of new boxes added to a column left of where his was located. One of the names on the new boxes stood out instantly to him. “Tom Marvolo Riddle” it said in brightly polished gold letters. Or perhaps the fact that it was three times the size of a typical box with obnoxiously gilded edges, coated in black satin with deep green drapes and tassels, drew his attention to it.

> Dear Mum and Dad,
> 
> I’m saying sorry in advance, so please let me off the hook. Sorry! It was nothing to do with my pitch or my fearing dark creatures or even my stance on equal rights. ~~I just~~ I was late to the summoning class and that most likely left a bad impression on the potential matches during the ritual itself. I will not deny my fault on this count but neither will I engage in post-mortem thoughts since it did turn out better than I expected. I promise I will make a much better effort to be punctual in the future.
> 
> And, I know I’ve made my opinions on wizard rights clear, but it is not only that which makes me happy with my current contract. I do sincerely believe that Tom makes a better companion than a dragon or a demon or even a vampire would. At the very least he pays attention and cares about what I have to say. 
> 
> I will definitely ask him about joining us for Yule.
> 
> Love,  
>  Harry
> 
> p.s. Send Dad and Remus my love too, and please tell Dad to be careful. He always gets carried away with heroics.
> 
> p.p.s. How did Malfoy get on the cover of Summoness Daily? I can’t imagine what the editor was thinking. Also, I’m impressed they managed to produce so many dragon models on such short notice. Who knew? And I’m sure Mrs. Longbottom will put Mrs. Malfoy in her place. 

_________________

> Padfoot help!
> 
> The kneazle’s out of the bag! I told my mum I was late for the summoning. I just couldn’t help it, you know how I get – I just can’t hide things from her if she starts to push. Please help to control the damage!
> 
> Also don’t worry about Tom, I have a sense that he’s the prudent sort. According to Hermione, he’s asked a lot of questions about Hogwarts that shows his intelligence. Actually, he has more in common with Hermione than I’d care to admit. In any case, I’m sharing a room with Tom, so any blonde-haired ferret who wants to harass him has to get through me first!
> 
> You know, Lucretia doesn’t seem so bad to me. She got pretty riled up when Malfoy came to insult Tom and I (as if that’s anything new). 
> 
> Love,  
>  Harry

_________________

> Dear Bellatrix,
> 
> Thank you for your congratulatory gift. I’m not sure what I would do with the severed rear of a Blast-ended Skrewt, but I appreciate the thought regardless. 
> 
> And yes I did indeed summon a ‘very dashing, handsome fellow’. How did you know? Did Lucretia tell you? Also, what exactly did you mean by saying my ‘arse looks good enough’? Good enough for what?
> 
> My well wishes to you and your husband.
> 
> Best regards,  
>  Harry

_____________________________________________________________________

Tom leaned over his summoner, watching as the boy’s chest rose and fell gently in his sleep. He had fed less than on the first night, when he had gotten too greedy and pulled out a large amount from the summoner’s magical core directly into the precious treasure he held in his hand. Who could blame him for the slip of control? Harry’s magic was _delectable_. 

Granted, it would be unwise to draw too much attention to himself as of yet, so he had to feed without Harry losing too much magic or energy at any one time.

He caressed Harry’s cheek. Tom liked touching Harry and making the poor boy flustered. He especially enjoyed seeing those wide green eyes that reminded him so much of his precious treasure. It was an added bonus that Harry was warm to the touch, which provided a pleasant tactile experience to the cold-blooded demon. 

Sometimes, Tom was struck by the need to kiss Harry’s plump lips. But he couldn’t, the contract prevented unwanted assault on their persons and the feeding clause was purely a stroke of Tom’s genius. Oh certainly, it was obfuscated by the bit about cooking and baking but it just proved he wasn’t wrong in his assumption that humans seldom learned to _read the fine print_. It was what Barty Crouch loved to do – hide the words “Sell your soul to me, pretty please?” in a dizzying load of redundant clauses. It never failed. ++

Then again, he had truly lucked out. Supper tonight had been a lovely affair. In fact, the cooking and baking was turning out to be quite the unexpected benefit. He wondered if his other plans fell through that he might hire Harry as a personal chef when the boy completed his fellowship. Or he could kidnap him and bring the poor, innocent creature to his underground lair.

There was also that power he could call on through his leverage of Harry’s name and sweat so generously offered to him, but he would not use it right now. It was to be saved for when the boy was resistant to Tom's demands.

Tom combed his fingers through Harry’s hair. The raven-haired boy looked so peaceful and innocent, with long black lashes fanned out over his cheeks.

But that wasn’t what truly attracted Tom. Beauty was in abundance amongst the demon race. No, it was the raw power, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in humans for a while now. It lured him and kept him close to the boy, the latter’s magic singing to him – at times soothing, at times playful.

And of course the utter carelessness and idiocy of this adorable creature.

Just five days ago, Tom had been bored out of his mind, wiling his days away and slowly sinking into a stone-like unmoving existence upon his Dark throne. As he slid even further down his throne, watching some his minions scamper about trying to find something, _anything_ which would spark the interest of their Lord, he wondered not for the first time, if a life of immortality wasn’t as delightful as he had initially made it out to be. 

Yes indeed. He was wallowing in self-pity. And why shouldn’t he? He couldn’t even depend on his minions to be a good source of entertainment.

His generals Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange’s latest venture was to set up a greenhouse in their underground lair to brighten the place up with flowers. A _greenhouse_. Where there was no sun. Yes, contrary to popular belief, some demons did have a complete lack of common sense. Fancy that!

He used to hate those unthinking fools, but after such a monotonous way of living for a very long time, he had managed to find it in his blackened heart to view stupidity with at least a smidgen of humour.

Tom was watching the annual ritual summonings of graduates then, to stave off his boredom if nothing else. And yet there was no summoner that caught his eye from the start. Just the same old, same old. After almost 3000 years since the practice was established, all these summoners tended to blur into one and the same. None had risen above the others. Or perhaps there was one human who fascinated him for a moment. It had been interesting while the acquaintance lasted.

His demons were watching the rituals from the throne room and the rest were at the larger ritual grounds. Both venues had a central spreadsheet installed, where all the possible rituals were cycling through, and his minions could access each one individually on their stone tablets. He had already seen some of them scroll through, put their claim on a summoner’s contract and send a challenge to any potential competition. 

Some of the other magical races tended to be more democratic but for demons, it more or less amounted to ‘fight or surrender’.

Sometimes they fought just because they could. Contract requests often appeared once or twice a day on average. However, this annual event overwhelmed the demons’ magical underground system capacities. Every single time the transmission was broken, his minions would break out into little scuffles to pass the time until the transmission resumed.

Tom of course had his own personal high-speed spreadsheet and was currently gazing at the floating ritual circles in front of his throne through half-lidded eyes.

He waved his hand lazily as he sifted through the range of circles. He sighed.

Other races may have been excited about the event to see the up-and-coming talents, but demons were so highly sought after that they tended to look upon these contracts in a more utilitarian manner than anything else.

Graduate summoners. How boring. The pitches were always how well they did in school, because that was all they could boast about in their short lives. Sometimes there were odd ones like winning the Best Calves contest in some gossip magazine. One claimed to be good at tap-dancing. Oh look and here was one about how his mother made the best pasta in the world.

Inane. 

He was almost drifting off when he spied something different. Then he did a double take. The runic words “My name is Harry James Potter…” appeared clear as day to his ruby red eyes. He sat up straight in his throne.

Finally! Some foolish human whose idiocy surpassed his expectations! 

He could see some of his generals stirring in interest. Clearly they had caught sight of the exception as well.

He watched with rapt attention as the offerings appeared within seconds as the ritual circle continued its activation and information transfer. Expensive ingredients his minions would salivate over, but nothing he did not already own. A snitch. What was the point of that? A round loaf of bread. Was this boy good at baking? Most summoners wrote their skills in the pitch and not give it in offerings. Well he would never say no to good bread.

He stopped short as he saw the last item to appear.

Sweat. 

As an offering. 

_Sweat._ This had to take the cake! With this much leverage, he could string the boy up like a puppet.

Oh the _sheer idiocy_. 

Either that, or this boy had guts in spades.

For the first time in years, Tom laughed. It was a rich, hearty laugh, the type which demons were not often privy to in their dark underground lair. He laughed so hard he was clutching the side of his stomach at the end of it.

His minions looked up at him in surprise as he took great heaving breaths to calm down. 

And that was when he noticed it. The stunning wave of power generated from the ritual circle. He almost let out an involuntary gasp. He recognised this particular brand of magic, so intimately acquainted with it was he.

 _Yes._ This was what he was looking for. Someone fun he could play with. Someone to entertain him. Make him feel alive.

Someone powerful. Someone whose magical affinity appeared to match his. 

He had a bad tendency to break his toys too quickly though. That would not do – he’d be bored for the next couple centuries again if he did not control himself. Indeed, Tom made a firm decision to take his time to enjoy this much-needed distraction in his life, drag it out as long as possible before the next lull.

And maybe, there was now a viable candidate to aid him in solving the miasma problem. 

“Bella.” He called softly.

That one word caused an avalanche of movements. The lower ranking demons were in a hurry to get away, Dolohov and Mulciber shrunk into the corner, Rabastan had already fled and Rodolphus had perked up from his pot of withered roses with a goofy lovestruck expression on his face.

“Myyyyy Lordddddd!!!” The demoness' happy shriek could be heard from a great distance away as she charged towards the throne room in a whirlwind of wild, curly hair and tattered dress.

She curtsied haphazardly and awaited her master's orders.

“Bella dear, remind me,” he drawled, “did you ever contract a summoner by the name of Potter?”

She let loose an ear-splitting cackle which would have solidified any suspicions of her insanity.

“James Fleamont Potter! Very stupid human, all guts and glory with unnecessary morals! Best friend of that damned dog Sirius Black, husband to Summoning Charms Mistress Lily Evans Potter and father of itty bitty baby Potter!” She rattled away.

“Hmm...” Tom took some time to ponder. ‘Itty bitty baby Potter’ most definitely referred to the boy summoner.

“Barty! I have a task for you. I want to collect all information available on Harry Potter. Make haste.”

The straw-blond demon who answered his master’s summons stepped out of coiling shadows to give a bow before fading away again.

“Does my lord wish to accept the contract of Harry Potter?” Bellatrix asked, catching on quickly.

“Indeed, dear Bella. And I want all my chess pieces in place before I accept the contract. See to it.”

“Your wish is my command, Master! But… but in a place swarming with enemies, you must have protection!”

“I'll let you deal with that.”

The demoness hurried off in great eagerness much the same way she appeared. Tom looked over at General Rodolphus Lestrange, who was slowly coming out of the love-induced stupor he was in.

“Lestrange. Take your brother and keep at bay any competition for Harry Potter's contract until I have everything ready. Use negotiation and distraction if possible and violence where necessary.”

“And if it comes to an all-out slaughter?”

“You have my permission.”

Tom was answered with a large grin and he stood up from his throne calmly, his expression betraying none of his excitement. Time to get his affairs in order.

_____________________________________________________________________

Ron was at his absolute grumpiest at breakfast. 

Stupid Snape! He pierced his toast violently with his fork in a fit of petulance and anger.

Of course he knew. What did Ron expect? That he’d get away scot-free for stealing Basilisk venom? Obviously he wasn’t born with luck on his side. Being the youngest male Weasley was proof enough of that. His mum was gonna send a howler at this rate. 

Bloody shite. 

He let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and an exasperated growl.

“Alright,” Hermione snapped, “Out with it. What’s wrong with you today?” Her knife poised over the waffles she had been occupied with before.

Ron seized the opportunity to produce the poutiest pout he could at his frustrated girlfriend. Harry reckoned that if the ginger could look in a mirror now he would never make an expression like that again.

“It’s Snape! He postponed my training session. Apparently he has been called away to deal with the increased miasma in the Forbidden Forest. Until the situation is stabilized it’s supposed to be free time for his trainees.”

“That’s unusual. The situation must be quite bad then. But isn’t this good for you?” Harry asked.

“Yea it would have been if he didn’t hold me back in the hallway to give me this!”

Ron pulled out a slip of parchment from his robes and thrust it in Harry’s face. Harry picked the parchment off his best mate’s fingers and Tom leaned in close to read the message.

_Mr. Weasley, while I am busy being helpful to our community, you will write an essay on why stealing expensive and potentially dangerous potion ingredients is selfish and detrimental to society. I expect at least twenty inches of filled parchment on my desk before our first lesson when I return.  
\- Professor Severus Tobias Snape_

Harry passed the message over to Hermione while trying to keep his face straight.

Hermione scanned it quickly and then tutted at Ron. “Well I would say I told you so, but I suspect the twenty inches should teach you well enough.”

“What great friends I have!” Ron moaned and slumped in his seat. “I swear he’s going to call me out in front of all the other trainees. This is just delaying the inevitable!”

Harry laughed, patting the wiry teenager sympathetically on the shoulder. Nobody was surprised with this outcome.

The ebony-haired summoner downed a glass of cold pumpkin juice and then stood up with determination.

“Come on, I know just what to cheer you up. Let’s go to Hogsmeade. I’ve promised to take Tom there.”

“Fantastic idea!” Ron exclaimed, shooting up from his seat as well, while simultaneously toppling his glass, flipping his plate and bowl, and causing a domino effect down the long table. This led to a spill of bright orange pumpkin juice all over Parvati Patil’s expensive and beautiful Sari, and the girl promptly burst into tears. 

Ron sat back down quickly, trying to shrink into himself as much as he could while pretending he didn’t exist.

“What about you ‘Mione?” The bushy-haired prodigy looked up at Harry as she mulled it over. He hoped she would say yes, since they were to be at Hogwarts the whole summer this year, in order for Professors to monitor the summoner-guardian relations and magical core changes. However, the uncharacteristically solemn expression on her face gave him pause.

“I think I shall join you,” she said decisively, “But I have a request. Can we not ask our guardians along this time? Oh I mean, Tom can join of course, but I’d like some time to talk to the two of you without Lucretia and Luna present.”

Harry blinked in surprise. 

“Of course, ‘Mione. I’ll see you both down at the entrance and we’ll walk over to the village together.”

Harry took his leave with Tom, intending to bring a larger pouch of galleons to treat his glum friends to some Butterbeer and Honeydukes chocolates.

He supposed he would find out what was troubling Hermione at The Three Broomsticks. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The hot summer sun scorched the back of their necks as they entered the tavern in the little village at the footsteps of Hogwarts.

Harry ordered four mugs of Butterbeer and joined the other three at a round table.

“So what's going on Hermione? You've been looking so gloomy.”

The bushy-haired girl worried her bottom lip as she struggled to reply.

“I just... I don't quite know what's happening anymore. I’ve been worrying about what this means. For me, for Luna.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn't tell you but actually, the first thing I asked when she appeared was what drew her to my ritual.”

“Yes and you said she liked your book and grimoire offerings.”

“She did! But before she said that, she told me she chose me because the ‘Nargles’ –” Hermione wiggled her fingers to mimic quotation marks, “– told her to do so. I didn't know what to make of that so I pressed her for another answer.”

She paused to take a sip of Butterbeer.

“And I feel like I can't connect with her. She just says all these odd things sometimes and I don't understand half of the conversations we've had. Luna is always running off in the middle of something because she’s apparently spotted some ‘Nargles’ or ‘Wrackspurts’, whatever those are. I’m pretty sure they don’t exist because I’ve never read about them in any books.”

She drew another deep breath.

“I’m also worried because our magical affinities don't match. Even worse, I found out that Luna is not just any Lovegood. She happens to be the Priestess Presumptive of the Faes! Why would she accept _my_ contract? I can’t make sense of this!”

“Everyone thinks Luna is a bit loony. And what does it matter why she chose you? It’s probably because you’re the brightest summoner of our generation. You're always thinking too much ‘Mione. Just relax and have some Butterbeer.”

“Don't you patronise me, Ronald!” Her voice raised and eyes positively blazing. Ron sat up straight in fear.

“And maybe _you_ should be thinking more! Have you even bothered to do a background check on your own guardian?” 

Ron gaped and shook his head frantically. He could sense the great danger coming his way.

“No? Because I have! I thought she sounded familiar and guess what? Lucretia Black appears in no less than ten books in our library. Mostly for her role in the massacre of numerous villages which were involved in threatening the Demon Overlord. She's brutal, Ron! Given such information, would you not wonder how a novice like you contracted a guardian like Lucretia!?” Hermione ranted.

Ron nodded frantically.

“Not even Draco Malfoy's dragon is well-known or has done anything famous before, however impressive a dragon is. In fact, I'd say out of the three of us, only Harry has gotten a guardian who makes any sense for our current magical levels. No offense meant, Tom.”

“None taken.” Tom assured, eyes bright with amusement. 

Harry was very glad his guardian wasn't the petty sort.

The conversation continued for a quite a bit longer before the trio decided to get some shopping done. Without more information, much of what Hermione could say was only speculation.

Harry dragged them along to Honeydukes to cheer them up, buying Ron some Chocolate Frogs and Hermione a box of Toothflossing Stringmints. The two were occupied with a small display at the back of the shop which also included a sample of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum ver. Supersize for customers to try. They were most definitely having some sort of kiss and make up session there.

Harry had wanted to get Tom something nice as well, but he remembered the wizard did not like sweets. He browsed around the shop until he happened upon the new collection of Bitter Books - _Low in Sugar For A Guilt-Free Treat!_ , which he promptly paid for.

As he turned around to hand it to Tom, he bumped into the wizard who was standing right behind him. Tom reached out and curled his arm around Harry’s waist, steadying him. 

“Careful there.” He crooned. 

Harry didn’t understand why he frequently found himself in this position with Tom. Not that he disliked it; it was very comfortable except… he couldn’t figure out why he lost all control of his mental faculties when it happened.

“T- t … t…”

“Yes, dear?” Tom smirked.

“I - I… bou…”

“Mmhmm?”

“F… for you!” Harry shouted, while thrusting the box of Bitter Books into Tom’s chest, while taking the chance to extract himself from his guardian’s grasp. His heart was pounding against his ribs and he was absolutely certain that his face was red as a beetroot by now.

Tom held the box to his chest and smiled at his summoner.

Harry was sure that steam had begun to smoke from his ears by now. It struck him that he probably came off as a lovesick girl handing chocolates over on Valentine’s Day. _Oh Bollocks!_

“Hey, what are the two of you doing? We should be heading back soon.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded to Ron. Some distraction was good. Yea.

_____________________________________________________________________

They were almost back at the gates of Hogwarts when they bumped into Neville and his guardian.

"Hey Neville!" Harry called out.

“A unicorn!” Hermione squealed.

“Oh! Hi Harry, Ron, Hermione, and uh…”

“Tom. Tom Riddle.” The wizard extended a hand to round-faced boy.

“Neville Longbottom. And this is my guardian, Daphne Greengrass of the Greengrass tribe.”

The unicorn was a beautiful and winsome creature. But Harry knew that was often a façade for the noble race. They had after all, the hardest horns in existence, and were more than ready to put the wicked, gleaming point to use when others sought to harvest the alicorn. 

Daphne moved forward and let loose a series of whinnying noises, carrying on a one-sided conversation that the green-eyed teen could not understand.

“Did you know what she said, Neville?”

“No, I’m not fluent enough in Unicorn but it’s a new task that I’ve set for myself. She understands me perfectly so it’s no excuse for any lack of effort on my part. I hope I will master the language soon so I can communicate better with Daphne. Professor Dumbledore has some books he’s lent me.”

“Oh! Is he your supervisor?”

Daphne had moved on from Hermione and Ron to sniffing Harry and Tom.

“Yes, but it’s not easy – I’m the only one he’s training this year, so there’s no one else I can split the work with, which is unfortunate. He has exceptionally strict standards, you see.”

Hermione, against all logic, seemed to approve of that. At least, against all conceivable logic in one Ronald Bilius Weasley’s mind.

The unicorn reared back suddenly, and kicked around wildly.

“Blimey!” Ron shouted, as he attempted to duck the flailing hooves.

“Oh dear! I’m not sure what got into her. Daphne! Daphne! It’s alright!”

Harry found himself pressed securely against Tom’s chest as he was spun around to narrowly avoid the unexpected attack. 

“Thank you!” he gasped.

Tom moved Harry behind him and approached the unicorn slowly.

“Mr. Longbottom,” he said quietly to the teen who was struggling to calm his agitated guardian, “Let me help.”

The man then released a series of whinnying sounds, soothing the unicorn. 

“Oh Circe,” Hermione whispered, “He can speak Unicorn? How?”

Tom ignored the flurry of questions around him and continued to talk to Daphne. As the beautiful glowing creature ceased its frantic movements, Tom crooned and caressed its white mane before turning around to give Harry the most breathtaking smile, his face wreathed in the glow from the setting sun. Like an angel.

Harry felt his heart stutter to a stop. And then started up again at an unhealthy rapid pace. _Oh dear._ He was such a goner.


	5. Lesson Five: Don’t Choose Only Easy Electives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That exposition chapter we cannot escape from for a summoning AU. I think it should answer many of the questions thus far. In case you have any further queries on miasma, don't hesitate to voice it out in the comments! (More miasma stuff gets explained much later in the story but for now the following are the basics.)

Harry was doing his very best not to grumble. After he had made breakfast for Tom and himself, he also packed some lunch as requested by his guardian. He was then summarily dragged to the library with the smuggled lunch where he was forced to sit down and read through a stack of books for revision ahead of their practical lesson. 

The green-eyed teen rubbed his thumb and index finger lightly over the corner of a page. The book was a more advanced version of what he had studied in his fifth year, focusing on spells that worked well with the access to two magical cores, as he now had with the help of a guardian. Unfortunately, the book boasted a spine that measured four inches thick. It was the kind of text Hermione would call a ‘light read’, and Ron would keep away from himself using a ten-foot long stick. Harry was smack in the middle of the diligence continuum, recognising the importance of reading as his mother often stressed, but unable to muster the level of interest to study with vigour. 

“Tom…” he pleaded, “must I read this _now_?”

The dark-haired man sitting opposite him at the wooden desk in the southeast corner of the library lifted an eyebrow, looking severely unimpressed.

“You’ll need the knowledge.” He said simply.

“For what? I’m not pursuing questing as a career, I can stick with the basic book right here.” Harry replied, tapping on the original textbook he had once used. 

Tom sighed. “It’s not quite time for me to explain yet, my dear.”

Slender and elegant fingers curled around Harry’s chin and lifted it gently. The teen looked up, puzzled. As verdant orbs met deep black eyes, Harry felt a sort of calm settle over him. Absently, he wondered what he was even grousing about. He glanced back down at the yellowed and fragile pages and found to his surprise that the material was fantastically interesting and exciting to read. And there were only about a thousand pages to the book. He would finish it by today – he promised himself.  
_____________________________________________________________________

It was in the late afternoon that Ron and Hermione finally found their friend in a place at Hogwarts he was seldom seen frequenting. It was an astonishing sight that greeted them in the library – the messy locks of raven-hair tumbling over his forehead partly obscured the intense look of concentration upon Harry’s face as he steadily read a critically-acclaimed academic text. Ron shuddered at the thickness of the book, of which his friend looked to have read about three-quarters of. 

“Something’s wrong with him.” Ron announced with confidence. He turned to Hermione to find his girlfriend staring at the scene with a look of indescribable delight.

“I knew it,” Hermione whispered, “Tom is a good influence on Harry.”

Ron struggled not to roll his eyes and surged forward to claim the seat next to Harry. From the pile of books stacked across Harry and a mug of Gillywater, Ron guessed rightly that Tom was seated opposite. It was a strategic decision to place himself a seat away and not directly next to Tom where Hermione was now seating herself. While he rather liked the wizard, he sometimes felt intimidated by the man who was almost inhumanly handsome and enacted both measured words and actions that bordered on near perfection. Ron was certain the man would beat even himself at a game of chess. Though he would never admit that out loud.

Harry hardly gave any sign that he had even noticed them. 

Ron opened his mouth to speak and was quickly hushed by Hermione who gave him a disapproving glare. 

Right. The no-disturbance-when-someone-is-reading rule that Hermione was so adamant about.

Minutes ticked by and impatience rose in the ginger and he was about to ignore the rule when Tom and Lucretia strode around the corner to join them. At that moment, it was as if a spell was lifted and Harry surfaced from his sea of brittle pages to look at Tom with a soft smile. 

He sat up straight as he suddenly became aware of Ron and Hermione’s presence. 

“Oh! When did you two get here?”

Ron’s bemused expression was juxtaposed with Hermione’s amused one. 

Tom neatly folded himself into his hard-backed chair, while Lucretia circled around to place herself beside her own summoner. 

The sight of her made Ron recall the wonderful incident at breakfast, which he had been dying to relay to his friend except for the unfortunate and unusual location which prevented his having found Harry earlier. 

“You look… happy. _Very_ happy. Did something happen?” Harry queried, noticing his friend’s triumphant grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes, brushing her fringe out of her eyes impatiently. “He’s been insufferable ever since breakfast.”

“You can hardly blame me, ‘Mione. I deserve to gloat after the victory scored against Draco today.” Ron crowed.

A look of interest flashed in Harry’s eyes. “Go on then! Tell me!” He said excitedly.

***

_Ron started his morning like all other mornings – tired and wishing he could go back to bed. He was slowly ambling his way across the Great Hall to his usual spot for breakfast when he was roughly pulled aside by Draco Malfoy._

_“Weasley.” The blonde spit out, making the name sound like a vulgar word._

_“Malfoy.” Ron returned with no less vehemence. He smacked away Malfoy’s tight grip on his arm and the two whipped out their wands and begun to prowl around in a circle, eyeing each other like prey._

_It was a dramatic scene between sworn enemies that promised a great show to the audience that quickly gathered around the edges to witness the fight. A fight which occurred every two to three months for the past seven years, making it the most consistently scheduled performance at Hogwarts._

_Headmaster Dumbledore and his guardian Grindelwald looked on in interest, each leaning back with a glass of Firewhiskey completely inappropriate for mornings in their hands. Not that it made much of a difference given the absurd words often spouted by the Headmaster. The students were certain that Dumbledore spent most of his day being high on smoking too much Moonlight Jewelweed._

_“Minerva?” Professor Sprout asked after she took a leather pouch from Hagrid. The stern face woman surreptitiously handed a few galleons to her colleague. “I’ll bet on Weasley this time. Something tells me he will win.” Pomona Sprout raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Well those are low odds given the history but if he does win you’ll make good money.” Sprout confirmed._

_“What’s your problem, ferret?” Ron hissed, pointing his wand at his opponent._

_Draco’s shoulders were unnaturally tensed. He wore an even more aggressive and constipated expression than usual._

_“It was you, wasn’t it? Or was it **Potter**?” Malfoy expectorated the name with even more force than he had Ron’s, resulting in the spit that now flecked his lips. _

_“No idea what you’re talking about.” Ron said, affecting a look of nonchalance while he continued to circle across the blonde._

_Frankly, Malfoy could have been referring to anything given the multiple pranks Ron actively planned against the blonde. He was bitter about his power being rather a bit less than his enemy’s and he had taken to exacting revenge in more petty and insidious ways. Just yesterday, Ron had sneaked into Draco’s room to switch out his lavender and chamomile body moisturizer with a hair growth potion. The yowl that pierced the dormitories in the evening signified the success of his prank and gave Ron a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest. Although, judging by Draco’s smooth and hairless skin this morning, he had managed to seek Madam Pomfrey’s timely treatment._

_Somehow, Ron had a feeling that Draco was not referring to this incident._

_“Don’t play dumb, Weasley. My ring, the Malfoy family heirloom! It’s broken in half!”_

_Ron started a little, but continued to keep his wand lifted. This was definitely not his doing, and he knew Harry would never go to the extent of inflicting harm on any family heirlooms, even if it belonged to the prodigal git. Ron would do it if he could of course – he was not above admitting to himself just how petty he could get in a school rivalry like this._

_Besides, family heirlooms were protected with so many charms that neither Ron nor Harry was likely to possess the skill required to break the ring in half._

_Ron suddenly found himself stuck in the ground, waist-deep in the floor of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Aw shucks, he thought. He had been too distracted, allowing Malfoy to make the first move. He looked up at the blonde to see a visage of madness as he raised his wand, prepared to strike at Ron again._

_At that moment, Ron came to the realisation that Malfoy was beyond furious and looking to seriously maim him._

_“Merlin’s sake, Malfoy!” Ron shouted quickly. “Do you think I’m capable of destroying your ring?!”_

_Malfoy’s wand paused in mid-slash as he narrowed his eyes at the ginger boy._

_“If anything, I wouldn’t even be able to access the place you hide your ring in, and not for lack of trying. It's obviously someone way more powerful.” Ron retorted._

_He cringed back as Malfoy stalked forward growling, before coming to a standstill. Ron watched as the blood drained from Draco’s face, and he turned ashen, his hand forming a tight fist around his wand. His entire body was trembling._

_Taking the opportunity, Ron pointed at Draco with his wand and cast a spell of his own making – the only one. The one he had spent years experimenting and perfecting in the Room of Requirement, determined to use it in a showdown against Malfoy. Ron never forgot the disaster of his ‘Eat Slugs!’ spell backfiring on himself in their second year when he had meant to use it on Draco. He was bent on letting Malfoy know just what it was like to be intimately acquainted with slugs. And now he had his chance._

_Before his eyes, Malfoy ballooned and turned a pale yellow as his head melted seamlessly into his body and a layer of slime begun to coat his form. Draco’s eyes stretched out onto stalks which swiveled in horror as he realized what he had become. A giant, fat blonde slug._

_He felt himself slowly lift out of the ground and turned his head to note his demoness guardian drawing him out and up with her own wand. He gave her an appreciative grin and watched as her own smile transformed into a smug one._

_Malfoy released a series of high squeaking sounds before turning around and rapidly sliding out of the Great Hall while oozing a thick long trail of slime on the floor. Ron had never seen any slug move so fast before._

_A puff of smoke billowed out as a fellow trainee snapped a photo of the escaping slug. Ron knew who that picture would make its way to once school term resumed - Colin Creevey, Head Editor of The Hogwarts Tribune._

***

“Wow.” Harry breathed out. After the last ten consecutive dueling losses, Ron had finally clocked another win against Malfoy.

But his delight at his friend’s victory was tampered. Something about the incident didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but it hinted at something more sinister than a simple school rivalry. 

“It’s a warning.” Tom clarified. “A warning to him and his family.”

Hermione looked over sharply. “What sort of warning? What warrants the destruction of a priceless family heirloom?”

Tom leaned back and looked out of the library window with half-lidded eyes. “A warning of death. Family heirlooms represent the glory and continuation of a family. It is an explicit challenge to the longevity of the Malfoy family line. Someone is seeking to wipe them out.”

“Bloody hell.” Ron whispered. “You don’t reckon there’s really someone in school who wants to hurt him?”

It was Lucretia who spoke up this time. “Many people desire to hurt the Malfoy boy, but this speaks of a grudge that runs deeper. If the boy has any wits about him, he will communicate this to his family as soon as he can.”

“According to you, the professors were privy to this outburst and information.” Tom added, nodding to Ron. “I do believe they will attempt to aid him when such an overt and malicious threat has been issued.”

Hermione frowned and bit her lip. She was in her element now; piecing together various information to derive a plausible conclusion.

“Who do you suppose it might be?” she pondered. “Nothing like this has happened over the last seven years we were here. Of course, the Malfoy family has no lack of feuds and grudges held against them. But for this to happen... quite suddenly and only now…”

“You mean to say it’s one of the new guardians.” Harry picked up on her train of thought.

“Yes. And if someone is willing to send a vicious message to a student barely past the age of majority then none of us are really safe either.”

“You want to investigate this, don’t you?” Harry asked, recognising the expression upon her face. 

Hermione nodded resolutely. 

“Too many things have been changing recently. I can’t help but suspect even this incident may be connected in some manner. I am worried that our peace and stability now is just the calm before the storm. I have more news regarding the miasma, and I’m starting to form theories on this.”

“’Mione…” Ron said weakly. 

The ginger often found himself reluctant to hear the dearth of cheerful news that accompanied Hermione’s revelations. 

“There are two major updates; the first being the significant increase in the number of monsters. Second, there have been sightings of dragons concentrating in the Western reaches,” Hermione plowed on, “gathering and forming a community of sorts.”

Harry frowned. 

“Aren’t dragons primarily solitary?”

“For the most part, yes. So if these reports are to be believed, it is considered an anomaly in the behaviour of dragons. I’ve written in to the Dragon Watchers research team and they suggest that it may just be one such tribe.”

“But you don’t believe that.” Tom supplied.

“No, I don’t,” Hermione agreed, “I posit that it has something to do with the increase of miasma hotspots in the area.”

“Dragons aren’t gifted in the workings of miasma.” Harry argued. “They rely mainly on their own inner core. It only makes sense to use these hotspots for receiving summoner-guardian ritual requests when the circle facilitates their use of miasma.”

“They could have learned how to operate the miasma better. At least, this tribe must have figured out how to.” 

“What would they do with the miasma if they learn how to use it better?” Ron interjected. 

Hermione frowned as she sought to find possible uses of miasma that would benefit dragons. It was something she hadn’t learned enough about; the race was predominantly interested in food, nesting, treasure-hoarding and territory disputes.

“What does a top predator need more claws for?” Tom murmured.

The bushy-haired summoner spun around to look at the man. “You can’t be suggesting that they wish to do something diabolical? T-to… to take over the world of some sorts?” she asked flatly.

“Subjugate all other species, have a control over vast lands, easy access to food and treasure…” Lucretia remarked, “… my. I can’t imagine why they _wouldn’t_ want to conquer the world.”

Hermione desperately wished to argue that most books detailed the lower levels of organisational intelligence that plagued the race, despite fate having favoured the beings with immense power and strength. It was just not possible for dragons to overcome their competitive impulses and work together towards some sort of collective goal. Some of her discontent must have shown on her face for Lucretia leaned forward to ask, “What exactly do you know about the miasma, Hermione?”

The summoner bristled, feeling as if her intelligence was being undermined.

Tom lifted a placating hand. “You are said to be the brightest student of your generation, Miss Granger. I am sure you would be able to enlighten us on some details we have not been privy to. Or you may view this as an exchange of academic knowledge if you so wish.”

Lucretia nodded in agreement.

Hermione’s eyes lit up as she considered Tom’s proposal and tried not to preen at his unsubtly delivered compliment. She knew that wizards had a different set of schooling materials, and having a demoness nearby would surely reveal interesting snippets of information on how the deadly race of beings used miasma. Lucretia wasn’t the friendliest person, though she appeared to have a soft spot for Harry, being noticeably more genial and caring to her friend. Hermione hoped she would be more open to speaking with Harry present. She vaguely registered Ron’s groan as she sat up and prepared herself to enter the ‘lecturing mode’ she affected in academic discussions.

“Well, we didn’t study very much on the History of Miasma which is a subunit under the History of Summoning taught by Professor Binns. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to be too concerned about the origins of miasma, and what I have gathered is the little that I could get from the books in here.” She gestured vaguely to the library they were in. 

“From what I understand, miasma came from deep underground; from what is termed the ‘magical core’ of our world. The miasma seeps out through various conduits onto the surface, the oceans and the atmosphere. Where there are stronger conduits, miasma can gather and inspissate, forming miasma hotspots. These hotspots become conducive to our use of rituals, as the miasma powers the circles and according to the books I have read, the channeling of miasma through a circle has no spatial barriers and thus allow us to summon help in the form of just about anything, as long as our ritual circle has been accurately drawn. However, I am not certain of the theory behind this.”

She looked expectantly at Tom and Lucretia.

There was a pause before the demoness deigned to speak.

“Your ‘ritual circles’, as you humans often call it, is a more primitive method of communicating directly with the miasma. The runes which you inscribe into the circles are used to draw out miasma and accordingly alter it to perform a certain function. For example, if you wish to summon an Abraxan Winged Horse to you for aid of flight, you would inscribe the runes with the following purposes: flight, location of the mountainous ranges they reside in, either consent or forced response to the summoning depending on the situation, spatial transfer of the Abraxan to your current position, so on and so forth. 

In essence, you are entreating the miasma to enact your wish. For that matter, the greater the task you wish to perform, the greater the sacrifice – either in the form of your own magic as a catalyst or in other tangible offerings to the miasma.”

“You say that as if the magical miasma is sentient.” Hermione interrupted. 

Lucretia eyed her condescendingly.

“Of course it is sentient. Depending on your connection to the surrounding miasma, you may not require the use of a ritual circle to communicate your intent. Ritual circles are very unwieldy and take too much time to cast, even if you have prepared the runes ahead of time. It’s often a dead giveaway that a human is the origin of a summoning activity when we see a ritual circle. Had the human race been more willing to channel the miasma through themselves, they would be able to summon without ritual circles. It’s a pity that humans so greatly rely on the use of their wands and circles to communicate with the miasma.” 

Tom picked up the conversation at this point. “The secret of the Fae and Demon races is their practice of channeling miasma through their own bodies and delivering a clear intention back to the surrounding miasma to generate spells or a summon. They neither require use of a wand nor inscribing ritual circles – both remain optional weapons in a whole range of magical arsenal. This is the technique that humans, both wizards and summoners alike, seek when they request apprenticeships with demons or fae.” 

“It sounds efficient, most definitely. But unlike many other magical races, humans run a higher risk of dying or turning into monsters if we direct the miasma through our own bodies.” Harry pointed out.

“Great rewards come with great risks.” Lucretia replied, a smile on her pale and hauntingly beautiful face.

Ron took the short lull in conversation to call attention to his person. “I am lost.” he declared belatedly.

The rest laughed as they caught sight of his sheepish expression. The ginger was struggling to gain purchase on driftwood in the vast ocean. He didn’t think he would spend this day involved in theoretical discussions about magical miasma. Miasma was just… magic, wasn’t it?

“Ron hasn’t taken the History of Summoning elective, and he doesn’t have the habit of reading anything unless it helps him get a passing grade.” Harry clarified. Ron shot him a glare.

Hermione took the helm in explaining once again, feeling a little put out with Lucretia’s implication that human summoners were weak.

“The magic that we are born with in our bodies is a derivative of the miasma. It is in its nature similar to the miasma. However, the composition is different. You could say it’s a ‘filtered’ form of the miasma we see around us, and therefore we term it ‘magic’. Magic existing outside our individual bodies is called ‘magical miasma’, or just ‘miasma’ for short. The reason being that miasma itself contains toxins and many other elements that is harmful to us. Thus miasma in its pure form cannot be housed propitiously in our bodies. When we cast spells or circles, we either use our internal magic or we use the miasma surrounding us to power the spells.”

She paused and picked up a book from the stack next to Harry which contained a compendium of different magical races. Pulling out the chart from the book, she gestured to the pictures of various beings.

“In general, magical races differ in terms of their reaction to magical miasma. We divide this into two main categories: _Ability to Use_ , and _Resilience Against Toxicity_. Some are able to wield miasma effectively, such as Humans, Fae, and Demons.” 

She jabbed at a picture of a dragon. 

“Races such as dragons and unicorns are not as good at using miasma, preferring to depend more heavily on their own magical core. However, they have a high resistance to the toxins in the miasma, and can live in miasma rich areas without falling ill or dying.”

She then pointed to centaurs, imps, vampires, werewolves and a few others. “The rest tends to fall somewhere in the middle. The problem with us, us humans that is… we are gifted in using miasma but we are particularly susceptible to reacting poorly when exposed to miasma toxins. We run a higher risk of turning into monsters than the Fae or Demon races. 

Our internal magic, in fact, provides us some natural resilience against the toxins. Therefore we try not to exhaust our internal magic through hapless use of wandless magic. We prefer to use our wands to generate magic from within ourselves and use ritual circles to draw out miasma from around us.”

“I thought the ones more susceptible to falling ill from the toxins are the wizards?” Ron asked, looking bemused.

Tom shook his head very slightly. “Wizards are not more susceptible to the toxins – they are in fact more resilient, but conversely less capable of using miasma. You will find that even in all other magical races, there is a range of both ability and resilience depending on the individual. And yet only humans have decided to systematically discriminate against each other with an imaginary divide of summoners versus wizards, when it is merely a naturally occurring range.”

“Let us not forget the muggles though.” Harry said softly.

His dark-haired guardian turned to look at him sharply. “Yes. The muggles. Unfortunate humans who are born without an ounce of magic, thus failing to survive past their childhood when exposed to the miasma in our world.”

Sensing a rising tension in her best friend, Hermione quickly shifted the topic away from muggles.

“But… back to what you have mentioned earlier, Lucretia. Are you truly able to summon a… an Abraxan Winged Horse without a ritual circle? 

In response to the demoness’ silent assent, Hermione attempted to ask another question, though it clearly pained her to do so. 

“I-in that case, if demons are already so powerful, what purpose is there for demons to answer our summoning calls for a guardian?”

“Aside from the usual touted benefits of an increased lifespan, acquisition of new skills and accelerated magic core growth?” Lucretia asked, looking amused. The astute girl nodded. 

“We are neither a simplistic nor a homogeneous race, Hermione. We have very different wants and needs; our purposes our own. As long as the contract is fulfilled on both sides, is it not a desirable outcome? We seek a mutually-beneficial partnership, not a romanticised relationship.” 

“Power and politics.” Harry supplied.

Tom looked at his emerald-eyed boy and smiled indulgently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation isn't over yet! It continues in the next chapter, where more about the summoning process and guardian summoning ritual is explained, as well as Harry's first practical lesson of his fellowship training.


	6. Lesson Six: Effective Application Requires Content Mastery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there have a been a number of questions regarding how summoning and rituals work. I have added a bit at the start here but anyway, this is a slow burn/slow build type of story. So bear with me, it will all be revealed eventually.

Hermione did not push the subject further. It was apparent that Lucretia would not divulge her reasons for accepting Ron’s summons. While it did not bode well for her boyfriend, Hermione had already suspected the demoness’ purposes for coming to Hogwarts as less than innocent. For all that she supported equal rights, the bushy-haired summoner felt justified in being suspicious of any demon. 

And yet, let it not be said that Hermione was anything short of persistent. She would not allow the love of her life to come to any harm. If she had to watch Ron and Lucretia carefully and bide her time, she would.

_____________________________________________________________________

They discussed at length about the use of miasma rich areas as a base of sorts for which many magical races built their communities around, and what insights could be gleaned from dragons beginning to form similar societal structures. 

“Loneliness.” Ron had proclaimed was the reason. The others profusely disagreed. 

Hermione hoped to draw the conservation towards the oft told legends of the Demons’ Lair that was formed around a miasma rich underground lake that provided the demons with their source of power. 

This was neatly summarised in one of her favourite books, **Summoning: A History** , Chapter 7, Section 6, Page 342. 

She could even recite it by memory now: _Demons are rumoured to summon other beings to their lair more easily. Conversely, the manner in which demons received any form of summoning rituals within their own lair prevented them from being forced to answer any summons they did not wish to heed._

 _This led to the phrase ‘contracting a demon’, for they could not be summoned without a trade or a deal of some sorts, and such deals often worked in the demons’ favour._

These traits were so much unlike weaker creatures such as Trolls or Wyverns who did not have the right amount of protection to prevent a strong summoner’s call. It propelled the levels of admiration and respect that other races had towards demons in general. 

For all that summoning was a much celebrated skill among the human race, it came to Hermione’s notice that dangers were often downplayed. Summoning was not exclusive to humans and in fact, it remained a double-edged sword. It was silly how children were taught that they could summon others to them but not that they could themselves be summoned or spirited away. 

There were many horror stories among old summoning families of unsuspecting victims being summoned into the midst of evil hags, demons or imps and tortured within an inch of their lives. Hermione did not grow up listening to such tales as she had been born from two wizards who were delighted to find that their daughter had the capacity for wielding miasma and summoning. 

Thankfully, Hogwarts was a place with numerous protections to prevent such unfortunate occurrences. 

And the good news was that most students were in possession of a protective amulet or similar enchanted trinkets that reduced the chances of an undesired summoning by other magical beings when they left the safety of the school grounds. The bad news was that members of magical races who could also summon tended to be inordinately powerful so there was never a guarantee that these amulets would provide a foolproof protection.

For a while, the bushy-haired girl did not pay much attention to such warnings, until it hit close to home in the form of their childhood friend, Neville Longbottom. 

Hermione found out why Neville avoided demons like the plague – she, Ron and Harry had discovered one fateful day at St Mungo’s Hospital that his father, Frank Longbottom, had been summoned forcibly away to the Demons’ Lair a few years back when he neglected to wear his amulet to a quest. 

Frank Longbottom was returned to his family in a comatose state and never woke up. 

Neville’s grandmother believed he was good as dead after suffering at the hands of demons, for demons were known to be capricious and cruel. 

Even during their lessons at Hogwarts, students were often told that demons could somehow freely access all guardian ritual requests that appeared during the school’s annual Guardian Summoning ritual event. Thus it came with a healthy dose of warning for students to never write any summoner pitches in the ritual circles which could be construed as insulting to the demon race, lest the students found themselves suddenly missing some of their limbs. 

As an avid seeker of knowledge, Hermione had always hoped to find out how other races received Guardian Summoning ritual requests. It was always so odd to work hard from her side when sending the requests and not have _any_ idea how it was to be received by others. 

Gathering and shaping miasma to reveal non-targeted ritual circles (when the requests were open to all races) was a subject of intense study. An art in itself. Every race had their own methods.

Over the years, she had carefully gathered information in bits and pieces. She had them neatly recorded in her notebook with lots of footnotes and addendums. She prided herself for such dedicated note-taking habits, and it was on her bucket list to have one of her notebooks ‘stolen’ by a snooping journalist and published for the public to read.

> _Dragons_ : For one, she had learned from Harry’s mum that dragons seeking a summoner would station themselves at a miasma rich spot and release their magical signature into the surrounding miasma to attract guardian requests that matched their own magical signatures. This meant that a lot of hopeful students’ circles would never even appear to the dragons. 
> 
> _Trolls_ : Trolls hung out at miasma rich marshlands or under tall bridges (?) where circles could appear intermittently. She could not learn much more than that because Quirrell’s troll had an unbelievably short attention span. Harry had also refused to stick around and help out with the questioning, citing past traumatic experiences with troll snot. 
> 
> _Unicorns_ : This would have to wait till Hermione learned the language. She would then proceed to interrogate Daphne if Neville was amenable to it. 
> 
> _Giants_ : Ernie Macmillan’s new guardian almost stomped on her when she tried to speak to it. Hagrid suggested she levitate herself up to the top of a tall beanstalk before she began her next attempt.
> 
> _Wizards_ : Wizards had a central building dedicated to receiving summons as set up by the Summoners Confederation, but as they were still heavily discriminated by human summoners, the entrance fee was three hundred galleons and every additional hour of viewing the ritual circles was two hundred galleons. All in all, very exorbitant fees. It suggested that Tom was filthy rich if his clothing had not already made that apparent.
> 
> _Vampires_ : Sanguini, who was Professor Vector’s guardian, told her that vampires were said to bleed their victims dry into a basin made of bones and infuse the blood with miasma to generate the ritual circles. These circles would belong to summoners with a penchant for drawing blood as much the vampires themselves, to hopefully make a good match between summoner and guardian. After Sanguini offered to show Hermione just how it was done, she had decided to drop her questions and excused herself quickly.
> 
> _Werewolves_ : Remus Lupin said the werewolves used to depend on moonlight for this. However, after they discovered how to grow Moonlight Jewelweed and sell it to humans who had an obsession with ‘getting high’, they became so wealthy as a race, that they had set-up numerous caves to direct the miasma for receiving the ritual circles. These caves also provided them protection against unwanted summonings. 
> 
> _Hags_ : Something to do with mirrors. The hag she had asked kept offering a shiny red apple that Hermione just didn’t want to eat, so the conversation came to a standstill.
> 
> _Fae_ : She had learned from Luna that the Fae received these requests at the base of their Mother Tree, and the circles appeared fleeting, making it imperative for the Fae to quickly accept any requests they liked lest the circle disappeared. This only served to solidify the suspicion that Luna chose her on a whimsical impulse rather than any real desire to meet Hermione. The bushy-haired girl also found it difficult to imagine how the process worked if the ritual circles could disappear so quickly. What happened in the case of a competitor? Would the Fae respond to a challenge for the same summoner? She intended to ask for more details but was deterred by Luna’s reticence. Oddly enough, Luna seemed certain that Hermione would one day be able to feast her eyes upon the Mother Tree and have all her questions answered.

Hermione dearly wished she could add a section for Demons in her notebook.

However, it was a closely guarded secret on the workings of how rituals were conducted or received within each magical race. Despite her burning curiosity, Hermione knew she had to tread carefully if she wanted Lucretia to divulge any of these secrets…

“How do demons receive our guardian summoning ritual requests?” Ron piped up.

Hermione was hit by the need to violently smash her face in her palm. 

Trust Ron to ignore all etiquette and courtesy and to request such sensitive information in such a straightforward manner!

Harry was attempting to show his disapproval by shaking his head surreptitiously at Ron. However it was too subtle a gesture for his obtuse friend to register.

Lucretia froze for a moment. 

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. 

She hoped this wasn’t the last breath she would take. Lucretia may have been bound by contract rules against explicitly hurting Ron but it didn’t mean that the demoness did not have more insidious methods. 

In addition, Harry, Tom and Hermione were certainly not exempt from the non-assault contractual clause. 

Lucretia’s eyes flicked around the table, looking at each occupant in turn. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her as she gave a nod. Harry and Hermione both breathed a sigh of relief. 

“As you must have heard,” she began in a lilting voice, “we demons are able to access your guardian requests throughout the day. We do not face intermittency issues nor are selective in our viewings as some other races are. The circles are able to appear all at the same time.” She paused to take in the shocked faces of Harry, Ron and Hermione. 

“We consistently keep our portal open to receive all summoning requests under a centralised system, whether for guardianship, interesting deals, short or long-term aid, or any ill-fated attempts at forcibly summoning one of us. 

Miasma attuned to summoning requests are directed towards large areas where they appear. These ‘areas’ are fondly termed ‘spreadsheets’. This allows us to monitor, collate and analyse all rituals requesting demonic participation. We are also able to intercept rituals not meant for us.” 

She grinned nastily. “But of course so much data means we have unparalleled knowledge on rituals.”

Hermione gasped. 

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You mean to say you are able to somehow wield the miasma to maintain these ritual circles and… and keep all these… these ‘data’ on rituals without _losing control over the miasma_?” She asked incredulously. 

“It sounds like an extremely complex and organised system.” Harry mused. “That must be a great amount of control that must go into wielding miasma so specifically.” 

“It isn’t just that!” Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head frantically. “Guardian summoning rituals are different from normal summoning rituals because it requires a significantly higher amount of miasma powered through the circles from both sides. Hogwarts is built on one of the most miasma rich areas in the world so we don’t have to worry on our part. It says so in **Summoning: A History**. But just _imagine_ the amount of power needed to maintain all the information of every circle that come in throughout the day from every single summoning school instead of keeping only the interesting ones to look at!” Hermione was breathless by the end of her rant. 

The demoness looked smug. 

“Yes, we do indeed have meticulous and the finest control over miasma. Stunning, is it not? Some of the results from our advanced technology has been partially shared with your Summoners Confederation in our many deals with humans. Your race has been reaping the rewards of the hard work of Demons.” 

Lucretia proudly flipped her long tresses, some of the hair smacking into Ron’s face.

“But I confess that all credit goes to our Supreme Overlord, for he is the only one with the ability for perfect control in wielding the miasma.” She added.

“Ah I knew it!” Ron cut in, “It all comes back down to the mysterious Overlord of the Demons.”

Lucretia smiled enigmatically.

“Say,” Ron leaned in eagerly, “is he really… you know? The way our books describe him. Bald, white and snake-faced?” 

Tom choked on his Gillywater, and Harry grimaced while quickly rubbed his back sympathetically.

Ron could be so uncouth with his words sometimes – those who did not know him well were often shocked in the early periods of their acquaintance. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

It was about three days since Harry had contracted Tom as a guardian that he had begun to hear the rumours in dark corners of the corridors of Hogwarts. 

But by now, two weeks since the summoning, they had spread so much that he heard them speaking loudly all across the Great Hall even during breakfast.

“Those are the new odds?”

“Hey! Did you hear? Potter and Malfoy once bet that…”

“Wait! What if I bet that Potter loses the tournament but wins against Malfoy? How much could I earn?”

“Hah! A _wizard_ beat a dragon? You must be joking!”

“ _I_ think Tom is going to win. Because he’s handsome. That’s the truth of how the world works.”

“Wheeeee! Peeves will bet on Potty-wee-Potter!”

“Are you serious!? You will lose all your money. I think you should…”

Harry viciously kicked the table and regretted it immediately when a pain shot up his leg. He winced and sat down in his seat, a murderous expression spreading across his face. 

Oh Harry _knew_ what they were talking about! They were all gossiping and making bets about how Harry and Tom would lose to Malfoy and his overgrown winged Flobberworm during the Quadsummoner Tournament taking place next June. What utter codswallop!

And it didn’t help that Malfoy had taken to making snide remarks about Harry and Tom every single time they walked by him. 

Harry was incensed, but Tom just only seemed to grin wider each time he heard any derisive remarks by the blonde, and the raven-haired summoner could not figure out why, but he had stopped trying to make sense of what things amused his guardian. 

For example, those new badges that the Hogwarts Shippers Club were handing out, which were enchanted to show “Tom & Harry = Tomarry” in the most awful neon colours. Whilst Malfoy understandably grew even more unbearable in his jeering when he caught sight of the badges, it surprised Harry that Tom’s reaction had been one of delight. 

In any case, the last two weeks had convinced Harry that he was going the train the shit out of his arse so Malfoy’s predicted win would never be a reality! Starting from today! 

Tom scooped some fresh toast, beans and piled together a hearty English breakfast on his plate.

“Oooh look! Lovely jubbly!” Ron exclaimed as he looked at Tom’s choice, before proceeding to fit twice the amount of food on his plate.

The raven-haired boy laughed. Trust Ron to always cheer him up. 

Tom smiled at the beautiful sound of his summoner’s laugh.

“Don’t let it get to you, Harry. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities.”

The vote of confidence helped more than Harry had expected. 

Despite Tom’s tendency to radiate calm or boredom, Harry could see how fired up the other was in reaction to the susurrus around them. It was not evident in the calm expression on his face but the deep black eyes told a different story.

And thus it was with great enthusiasm that the pair arrived to Flitwick’s first practical training session.  
_____________________________________________________________________

“Multi-casting,” the half-goblin announced his presence, “is often the most magically draining activity for both summoners and guardians because it’s insidious! Sustaining multiple spells at once slowly removes your magic until you don’t realise you’re running low. Until it’s too late. 

A revision of what you have learned in your fourth year: Guardians provide their magical cores as reserve. It’s important not to lose control of multi-casting and know when it’s best to draw from your own or your Guardian’s magical reserves. Remember! In a place where monsters spawn, you have little time to rest so do your very best to avoid magical exhaustion. 

How do you overcome this? Any volunteers?”

Hermione’s hand shot up in the air. Standing next to her, Luna was staring hard at a space somewhere to their right. 

“Miss Granger?”

“ _One often finds the best way to overcome magical exhaustion is to measure accurately the rate with which one replenishes magical energy. By calculating the rate of both summoner and guardian replenishment based on the total combined volume of full reserves, one may derive a formula to use the optimal amount of magical energy from either guardian or summoner that best allows replenishment to maintain more than half of total combined reserves throughout the battle. The most commonly used formulas are –_ ” Hermione quoted verbatim from their fourth year textbook.

Tom decided that the author of said textbook ought to be summarily slaughtered.

“That’s just garbage. In a real battle, we have no time to think. I just rely on my instincts.” Harry whispered to him confidently.

Wrong! Battles were won with both adaptability _and_ strategy. Tom stifled a sigh. What were they teaching the children these days? He turned his attention back to Flitwick.

“– and so for today, I have enlisted our groundskeeper, Mr. Hagrid’s help to prepare a set of creatures and beasts for you. I would actually like to credit Mr. Hagrid for his ingenious plan this time round. He was ever so excited to contribute to your training!”

Flitwick gestured in the direction of the Black Lake. 

“Both summoners and guardians are to enter the Battle Simulation Square down by the Black Lake. Summoners, your task is to knock out each foe that stands in your way until you reach the other side of the square. Guardians are to help your summoners strategise and also open your magical cores for your summoners to draw upon. You should focus on accelerated recovery of your core. Summoners may draw on your guardian’s core to carry out any spells, and your management of this will count towards your formative grade. 

An important note of warning for all of you. This simulation tests your ability for magical endurance, so expect a large number of beasts in the square. The beasts have been treated to display non-aggression, however, just in case, we have Madam Pomfrey on standby should any of you be injured in the process.” 

Harry pursed his lips. He didn’t like it when creatures were bred and raised in captivity and then forced to be smacked about or even killed for something like lessons. 

They trudged over to the Black Lake, sweating a little under the hot June sun. Next to the lake was a massive and plain, smooth dark grey cube that could pass off as a sculptor’s uninspired piece of art.

Flitwick keyed in the code for the Battle Simulation Square to activate it: X, ∆, O, R2, R1, O, L1.

Hermione was up first for the assessment, and she looked nervously at the battle square, which had currently been set to full opacity for other onlookers. Luna however, was as unfazed and unfocused as ever.

Harry stood to one side where the other pair was stationed, while Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey were positioned at the far exit. He gave Hermione a thumbs-up for encouragement, and she gave him a shaky smile in return. Despite her reservations on practical work, she really was quite resourceful, and Harry knew she would do well.

A beep sounded, signaling the entrance opening. A line drew itself in a curved arch before the smooth grey of the cube shimmered to reveal the contents within. 

From where he stood, he could not get a glimpse into the square but he saw Hermione paling rapidly before she visibly took a deep breath and walked through the archway. Luna followed behind, smiling. 

“They really went all out.” Tom murmured.

Theodore Nott sneered. “How would you know? You can’t even see anything. Wizard scum. You are well-suited for a blood traitor like Potter.” He spat. 

Nott was clued in to the lack of sense and wisdom he displayed when the temperature dipped suddenly. He shivered.

Celion lowered his head and took a few steps back just as Tom turned to look at Nott. The man tilted his head, eyeing the brash summoner for a few moments before giving a chilling smile and turning back to gaze upon the battle square. 

Theodore Nott never considered himself particularly brave, but he also never pegged himself as someone to be scared of a lowly _wizard_. Because if the man had stared at him for a moment longer, he would have wetted his pants. The chill down his spine had not been his imagination – it was a self-preserving signal of being in the presence of a deadly predator. What worried him most was the opportune activation of his family’s gift of seeing magic, allowing him to observe the dark tendrils of magic curling threateningly around Tom’s person. This was not normal. Did Potter have any idea?

Nott gritted his teeth and stole a glance at the wizard and his summoner.

Harry had his arm looped around Tom’s as they spoke quietly to one another. The summoner seemed to show no sign of discomfort next to his guardian.

Just what was going on?  
_____________________________________________________________________ 

Hermione stood in front of the entrance with Luna, blood draining from her face as she took in the sight. 

Hagrid was crazy!  
_____________________________________________________________________

Theodore stood in front of the entrance with Celion, clenching his jaw as he took in the sight.

Stupid half-giant oaf!  
_____________________________________________________________________

Harry stood in front of the entrance, his jaw hanging as he took in the sight. 

‘A large number of beasts’?! What a gross understatement!

This was ridiculous! He couldn’t even see the other side of the square! Not because it wasn’t there, but because his line of view was cut off by the sheer number of beasts in the square. There was barely any space between the beasts and they were patiently squeezing past each other as they moved around. Now he knew why the two pairs before him had taken so long.

“Hagrid, _seriously_!?” he moaned.

He stepped forward as the entrance melted away, leaving him enclosed in the great cube. The creatures were walking about nonchalantly, barely sparing him a glance. Non-aggressive indeed. 

“Harry,” Tom spoke up from somewhere behind him, “I’d like you to not draw on my magical reserves at all for this instance.”

“Why not?” He spun around to face his guardian.

“I believe you already suspect that with our combined power, you would not have much difficulty. It may secure you good grades but it does nothing for your own learning. I would like to see how you manage all these by yourself.”

Harry thought about it and shrugged. It would be interesting to test his own limits.

The raven-haired boy lifted his wand and began to cast a repelling charm to the Crup in front of him. He was then nudged lightly in the side by a Diricawl which he also repelled. 

This method of repelling worked, Harry thought.

He continued repelling any creature that came his way, though he still could not see the exit.

He was making sure that he walked in a straight line when he suddenly found his vision blocked when a Salamander flopped onto his head and tried to make a nest in his hair. He quickly moved it aside. 

Unfortunately, this was the very moment that the Erumpent on his right nonchalantly walked backwards into him and proceeded to shove him out of his path into the path of another Erumpent’s rump. 

Harry knew there were a lot of people who somehow believed that butts were cute. 

_Cute? Bet they’ve never been sandwiched between two huge butts!_ He thought bitterly. _Why are they trying to butt-bump each other anyway!? This better not be a mating ritual!_

While Harry attempted to squeeze out from between the backsides of the two Erumpents, one of the great beasts knocked Harry over with its massive bulk and he felt a pain in his side. He looked up and was alarmed to find that he was in danger of being trampled.

Harry swore to himself that if he suffered from broken ribs because of this _monumentally idiotic_ task, he would throw a carton of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum into Hagrid’s beard and watch the half-giant shave it off!

The summoner managed to quickly roll away, relying on his Seeker reflexes and sprinted off. He ended up being smacked in the face by a Runespoor. 

Two minutes later, a Niffler was currently hugging his waist and dragging his pants down as he attempted to remove it.

Harry wasn’t even sure which direction he was facing anymore. 

Ten minutes later, one of the Erumpents was walking towards him again. 

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid._

He could see Tom standing a few paces away trying to hold back his laughter.

Gritting his teeth, Harry shifted on his feet to a more agile stance and begun to cast numerous _stupefy_ s. They would take the least amount of energy and hopefully help him clear a path to the end. 

_Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!_

_Stupefy! Stupefy!_

_Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!_

_Stupefy!_

A few hundred _stupefy_ s later and Harry was feeling a deep exhaustion in his bones. Already, a large number of the beasts he had stunned earlier were waking up and walking into his path again. He didn’t see how it was possible to maintain so many active stunning spells.

A Mooncalf that he had previously stunned cantered into him from behind, making him fall over.

He groaned pathetically and picked himself up again. 

“Tom…” he whined. 

He looked to his right to see Tom deep in thought, his brows furrowed. 

“Harry… do explain to me, why are you not clearing a direct straight path?”

The raven-haired teen looked forward and saw the haphazard mess he had made, with stunned creatures lying about everywhere. He didn’t understand the question. He had tried.

“But… they move around so much. You saw what happened, they would cross my path even if I cleared a straight line down. I mean, I can’t control where they walk, right?”

Tom gave a mildly exasperated sigh, before walking over to Harry and cupping the raven-haired boy’s cheeks. 

The boy flushed with the sudden contact and peeked up at Tom through his lashes. 

“Harry, let me direct you. Just relax and observe.”

“Direct? What do you mean?” 

“Do you trust me?” Tom asked, looking deep into Harry’s eyes.

Harry nodded. He then felt himself move, pulling out his wand and pointing it at a particularly large Graphorn that was staring at them with a vacuous expression on its face.

“Observe this, Harry.” Tom said, as Harry’s lips formed around a spell he did not intend to cast.

Harry watched as the Graphorn was levitated a few inches off the ground by his own wand though he had not meant to do so. 

The Graphorn was brought in front of them, before it was shifted from left to right, scattering other creatures out of its way. He subsequently levitated a number of other particularly large beasts and kept them hovering from left to right, maintaining only five spells at a single time. 

His wand moved in his hand with a lightness and ease that Harry never had. The summoner was struggling to gather his thoughts as to how he could be moving out of his own control without being under the Imperius curse, but those same thoughts kept dispersing. 

Tom beckoned to Harry with his other hand and they walked behind the levitated creatures, which were clearing a neat path for them. It was barely a few minutes before they arrived at the exit, and Harry was made to set the Graphorn down gently to the side. 

The exit shimmered as they walked through it.

“Oh.” Harry said in a small voice.

“Yes. ‘Oh.’” Tom mimicked, looking amused. “You need to think before you act, Harry. The solution is often very simple.”

Harry flushed. He had no idea how Tom managed to direct his actions and cast spells through him and he had wanted to ask about it but the words could not seem to leave his mouth. He felt like he was in a daze as he subconsciously leaned into his tall and dark-haired guardian. 

Flitwick was standing before them, clapping his hands excitedly.

“Oh brilliant, brilliant!” the professor squeaked, “A very good strategy indeed! Maintaining multi-cast while being efficient! Well done, Mr. Potter and Mr. Riddle!”

Tom gave a nod of acknowledgement, a polite smile gracing his handsome face as he looked both Flitwick and Pomfrey in the eye.

Madam Pomfrey sported a pink tint on her cheeks.

Harry shook his head at Tom’s antics, and felt his head begin to clear. He had quite forgotten what he had wanted to ask Tom and mentally shrugged. It would come to him later.

They strolled over to the side and joined Hermione and Luna who had waited for them. 

“That was a lot faster than the rest of us took. We have much to learn from you.” Luna said graciously. 

“Well yes,” Hermione groused, “You were a little distracted, Luna.”

Luna sighed but looked apologetic.

“My attention wavers sometimes… but I really wanted to speak to the Blibbering Humdingers. It’s a pity we lost sight of them.”

Hermione looked annoyed and folded her arms tightly around herself. She was about to contradict the Fae when she was interrupted. 

“Worry not, Miss Lovegood. There is a colony of them residing in the courtyard.” Tom gestured in the direction of the castle.

Luna’s eyes widened even further, and she thanked the dark brunet profusely before bouncing off towards the castle. 

Silence fell upon them as Hermione looked incredulously at Tom.

“Wait a minute… you mean to say all those things exist?”

“Miss Granger, it would do you good to avoid invalidating another person’s reality. Especially if it happens to be Miss Lovegood’s particular brand of reality.”

The man’s mouth turned up a little at the corners before he gripped Harry’s waist and pulled him along after the Fae, leaving the bushy-haired summoner frozen in place.

_____________________________________________________________________

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, as Tom pulled him over to sit at the couch. They had just finished a tasty supper of boiled vegetables, a platter of cheese and bread, and some light broth – all prepared by Harry.

“Pull up your shirt.”

“S-sorry!?” Harry spluttered.

“Pull up your shirt my dear, I believe you have bruised yourself just now in a fall.”

“Uh, that’s okay. I’m fine.” He could feel it aching at his side and he had certainly removed his shirt in front of Tom before, but he just felt embarrassed to do it when he was being so brazenly asked to. 

“I wish to check your wounds, precious.”

“It’s not serious.”

“Harry,” Tom sighed. “Remove your shirt right now or I’ll let Madam Pomfrey do the honours instead.”

Harry mumbled under his breath and reluctantly pulled his shirt up at the injured side, revealing an angry purple bruise.

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

Tom reached forward and prodded it a little, before muttering a quick spell that dulled the ache and visibly reduced the size and discolouration of the bruise. Harry blinked.

The dark-haired man then gently caressed Harry’s face where he had sustained some light scratches. Harry felt the blush rising up from his chest to his ears once again.

 _Not fair!_ He thought. 

It wasn’t his fault that Tom was so devastatingly handsome! And he didn’t really want to think much about what it meant; that he had liked all the touches, that he wanted to kiss the guy, that he was spending all his waking and sleeping hours with Tom, that most importantly, in just two weeks, he was more attracted to this man than anyone else had ever met... _Oh Merlin_! 

He really did do that ‘frequently avoid thinking hard about issues which bothered him’ as Hermione so often accused him of. Because thinking about it meant he had to _do_ something about it as well. 

Tom looked utterly too amused.

“Oh, Harry. It is apparent to me after today’s disaster of a practical lesson that there is so much room for improvement.” He chuckled. 

“I think we shall begin training in earnest from tomorrow onwards. You may be good at reacting and thinking on the spot but if you’re stuck in an unpleasant situation for an extended time it’s important to muster up enough resources to determine a careful course of action. You couldn’t hope to win the tournament without strategy dear.” 

_Nor deal with the miasma issue_ , Tom added silently.

Harry nodded, still embarrassed.

Their faces were so close now, and Tom continued to caress Harry’s cheek. Harry couldn’t seem to bring himself to pull away. 

From this distance he could see just how plump and tasty Tom’s lips were. So very kissable…

Tom leaned in closer, as if reading Harry’s thoughts. The green-eyed boy held his breath, heart beating faster.

Just before their lips met, Tom murmured. “My sweet Harry. I won’t kiss you just yet. I’ll let you make the first move… and then it's fair game for me.”

The man pulled away and stood up from the couch before sauntering off to bed, leaving a shell-shocked teenager staring after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I just get tired of writing this story and when I edit a chapter... I think I need a break. I really am thankful to all those giving kudos, comments, etc., you really keep me going!


	7. Lesson Seven: Don’t Let the Past Wholly Determine Your Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a good break and I'm back! Thanks for all your support thus far, you are such lovely people! :D  
> There's a new Breadcrumbs companion piece - a very short summary of Harry's weird birthday celebration which takes place before this chapter. Not necessary because the important details will pop up again in later chapters but you can read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11959611/chapters/27876225) if you like.

Harry was up at night, staring at the canopy of his bed. It had just been a few months since he met Tom but his mind was so entirely occupied with thoughts of his guardian that he couldn’t seem to concentrate on much else.

The thing was, he had spent almost every waking hour with the man, and technically every moment of sleep was in each other’s presence as well. Each night as they lay on their respective beds, they would turn to each other and enjoy engaging conversations of a nature he hardly partook in in recent years. He did remember cuddling on the bed when he was a little child, in the lap of his mother as she told him interesting stories and he would ask questions about the great, big world.

He had missed those conversations.

But he had found something similar from his talks at night with Tom. The wizard would tell him tales and adventures, legends and myths, until Harry fell asleep to the image of a beautiful, exciting world and a pair of ruby red eyes. Sometimes they talked into the wee hours of the morning, when barriers lowered and both shared a little more of themselves. 

Tonight, they had talked about flowers. A topic Harry had not expected Tom to be interested in. It began, if he recalled, with a talk about gardens and greenhouses. Tom had apparently lived in a place that was not conducive to growing plants. Harry offered to show Tom to the Herbology greenhouses on the Hogwarts grounds. The teen had always loved plants and flowers, having helped his mother tend the garden at Godric’s Hollow where they lived. He adored lilies as it was his mother’s namesake. But he was himself more enamoured of tulips and their bright colours. He was a little taken aback to hear that Tom liked heather. 

Heather was a flower that famously grew at the woodlands bordering the entrance to the underground domain of the demons. It was often the first sign to a quester that they were near the lair. 

Harry was no expert in the language of flowers but he knew that heather signified loneliness. 

And he had said as much. 

“Loneliness…” Tom replied, voice barely a whisper. “Yes I suppose my life could be defined by that one word.”

Harry was a little shocked, for Tom scarcely allowed himself to reveal anything that might constitute a weakness. At this moment, Harry knew he was considered fortunate for the man to divulge such information in his presence. He wanted to make full use of this opportunity to really understand Tom.

“I… I’m sorry to hear that. We could, maybe, do something fun together? I hope… that I can help you to feel a little less lonely.”

There was no reply for a long time. The window of opportunity had closed. Harry took that as the cue to sleep, and he closed his eyes, feeling a slight pang of sadness in his chest.

He almost missed the whispered words next, had he not been struck by a sudden wakefulness. For it had not been meant for his ears.

“Oh my dear Harry. If a flower like you had existed by my side, I would have doubtlessly crushed you like everything else I touch.”

Harry spent the rest of the night thinking.

_____________________________________________________________________

Harry laid his head on the table, uncaring that his hair was probably dipping onto the marmalade on his half-finished toast. 

He was just so tired! Oh Circe, Tom was such a merciless person. For months now, Harry was forced to wake up at 7 a.m. in the morning and train with his frankly overbearing guardian. Though he would be hard-pressed to deny just how much the training sessions had helped him – not just to develop his magical core but also to pick up useful strategies. He was a good deal more confident about the tournament now. 

The upside was, the weather had improved, becoming cooler but not too cold, so he wasn’t sweating torrents after his training. 

He felt a hand carding through his hair and lightly sponging off the marmalade mess he had gotten it into. He smiled. Sometimes Tom could be really sweet and caring too.

“Harry, the hospital wing is open for a check-up. I think you should go.” Hermione spoke up. 

Tom’s hand stilled for a moment.

Harry gave a noncommittal hum in response, feeling fuzzy and warm inside as Tom’s hand resumed carding through his hair.

He could hear Hermione huffing and attempting to drag Ron into the conversation. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand her concern. His tiredness was apparent to all the other fellow trainees by now, and the brunette was worried that there was a more complicated, underlying reason than his intensive training every day. But of course, Hermione hadn’t seen exactly how rigorous his training was. It was madness!

Harry lifted his head slowly and looked at her with bleary eyes. 

“Don’t worry ‘Mione. I’ll go today. Give you some peace of mind.” He added grudgingly.

She nodded satisfied. 

There couldn’t be anything _else_ wrong with him, right?

***

There was something _seriously_ wrong with him! Harry thought, as he looked unbelievingly at the charts Madam Pomfrey had produced after his scan.

His magical core had _doubled_ in size! It was just barely over two months since his summoning of Tom. Even with the benefits of contracting a guardian, this was physically impossible!

And not that he was trying to blow his own trumpet, being a rather modest person, but his magical core was quite significant to begin with. Alright, he _may_ have rubbed that in Malfoy’s face a number of times before but… this was different! This just made him even more abnormal than he already was. Oh yes, add another to the list of What Made Harry Potter Freaky. 

He looked up at nervously at the school nurse, who was now tapping her quill rapidly against her chin. She was frowning even harder than during those days he laid in the hospital wing with multiple broken ribs from Quidditch.

“Mr. Potter. As you have surmised, this is highly… unusual. You should also note that despite the increase in your magical core, the scan shows that you have always remained below half the total reserves for the past two months.”

What? He certainly hadn’t been training for two full months and he had always made sure to eat lots of food and rest to replenish his energy. 

“I will need to investigate this more. In the meanwhile, could you send your guardian up to see me?”

_____________________________________________________________________

“Mr. Weasley.”

Ron shivered as he heard the distinct drawl of the distinguished Professor Severus Snape. It was accompanied by the cold, unforgiving presence of a Dementor. Ron shivered even harder. 

“How kind of you to submit _nineteen and a half_ inches of essay to me. I specifically recalled that I had asked for twenty inches. Any reason why you fell short of the required length?”

Ron shook his head mutely. He could hear Malfoy, McLaggen and Smith sniggering somewhere to his left. Those gits.

“No? Was half an inch perhaps, _stolen_ from your parchment?”

The laughter grew louder. 

Ron was mortified, his face blushing all the way up to the roots of his flaming hair. He knew this would happen, but it did not make it any easier. But he was a Weasley. He would bear it as best as he could. 

His family was poor, he could never afford the same ritual offerings that Hermione or Harry could. He did consider asking his best mate for help with the Basilisk venom, but his pride got in the way – he didn’t want to owe Harry.

Funny thing – Pride – what stupid decisions it led people to make. His was taking a severe beating at this point, as parts of his essay was being read to the others in the dueling grounds.

Snape stalked away, signaling to Ron that the verbal lashing had stopped, at least for now. The ginger breathed a small sigh of relief.

“– and as I have made clear, I expect all of you to have completed revision of the texts I assigned to you over the past two months. As I was away on duty at the Forbidden Forest, I frequently entertained the idea of throwing such dunderheads of epic proportions as yourselves to the monsters living within. Should I see foolish behaviour of any sort in these three years that you are under my tutelage, I will see to it that the monsters at our doorstep are well-fed.”

The man gave Ron a particularly sinister look at this. 

Ron shot a glance at Lucretia, subconsciously seeking some moral support or commiseration. He was instead greeted with the sight of her looking absolutely predatory. Was she… hungry? She had joined him and his friends for breakfast at the Great Hall as usual, so he didn’t think it was that. He followed her line of sight and then struggled to stifle his gasp when he saw where it led to.

Snape. 

Why was she looking hungrily at Snape?

…

Oh Great Hecate, was she attracted to _Snape_ of all people?!

The revelation made Ron want to simultaneously vomit and faint.

The dour man was now prowling around, picking on each of them in turn, save his own godson, Draco Malfoy, and by extension, the Hebridean Black. In fact, the ginger would be willing to bet the choice of using the biggest dueling grounds for their practical was to accommodate the dragon’s need for large spaces and a view of the sky. Although, Ron did wonder whether even an angry, insulted dragon wouldn’t fail to frighten Snape in the slightest. 

Poor Susan Bones was now an almost identical match to the pallid, grey and quivering Kelpie guardian of hers. Zacharias Smith and Cormac McLaggen were leaning as far away as they could from Snape’s guardian Dementor that hovered too close. Their guardians, a hag and a succubus respectively, were blatantly using their summoners as a shield against their fellow dark creature. 

Beside the ginger, Justin Finch-Fletchley was clutching to his vampire for dear life as the Dementor drew closer. Ron could hear quite clearly the clicking sounds that came from Justin’s knees knocking against each other. The youngest male Weasley steeled himself for another pep talk coming his way. As he strained his ears, he could just almost pick out the rustling sounds signaling the arrival of his best mate.

Somewhere to the back of the dueling grounds, there was a little bit of shuffling and whispering.

One Harry James Potter and one Tom Marvolo Riddle were hidden under the Potter invisibility cloak as they watched the proceedings. The Potter scion had been called over to provide Ron some moral support, though he ended up feeling amused by what Uncle Severus was doing. He noticed that the man sported a new scar on his right cheek after his foray into the Forbidden Forest to clear the threats that lay within. It was widely known in the school that Severus Snape remained one of the most effective field agents among all summoners. 

Harry had heard numerous stories, some greatly exaggerated, of the hooked-nose man’s adventures in the realm of the demons when he was younger. Some say that he was personally taught by the Demon Overlord himself. Harry’s father had always maintained that Snape was being dishonest and had probably ran away from the lair of the demons with his tail between his legs. This declaration was always met with a nasty hex courtesy of Harry’s mum. 

The teen had once asked his mother whether there was any truth to the stories about Snape, because he knew that if anyone was privy to Snape’s tales, it would be the man’s best friend, Lily Evans Potter. But unlike all other topics, she was less than forthcoming on the matter of her childhood friend’s past. 

Harry moved to settle himself on a ledge of a cordoned area, where he had a perfect spectator view. He adjusted the cloak to drape comfortably over his feet, but Tom who was a lot taller had to tuck his legs in. The cloak was only just large enough to cover them both, and which had Tom pressing his leg tightly against his summoner.

Harry could almost feel the cool skin of his guardian through the thin layers of fabric between them. He squirmed a little, causing the cloak to lift an inch and reveal his foot. Tom quickly righted the cloak and snaked an arm around Harry’s waist. The raven-haired boy gasped as he was lifted up and placed upon Tom’s lap, and securely caged by strong arms. He made a weak sound of protest but the arms only tightened further. 

_Doomed. I’m doomed_ , was all Harry could think as his heart raced a mile a minute. That was, until he heard his guardian chuckle.

 _Liar!_ Harry thought. It didn’t matter that Tom hadn’t initiated a kiss, Harry was certain this… this _handsy_ behaviour counted as taking liberties. Way too many liberties. Tom was a big liar! Except Harry didn’t want him to stop. And... and he didn’t want to think about why he didn’t want the man to stop. Not yet. And of course, Harry had to then question why he was smiling while thinking about this. There was something wrong with him! He would **not** think about this… this handsome… Stop!

Harry slapped his own face to halt his thoughts. Tom drew back in shock and looked quizzically at the boy. Harry could feel his face flushing again and tried his best to concentrate on Ron – his main purpose for coming here. 

Harry vaguely registered Tom casting a silencing spell while he observed Snape turn back after his scathing remarks to Justin. Satisfied that he had sufficiently scared anyone in his vicinity, Snape whirled around and allowed his robes to billow out dramatically. 

Ron could only thank his lucky stars that Snape must have somehow, miraculously, forgotten about him and Lucretia.

“Are you ignoring me, Severus? I noticed you didn’t give my summoner or me our very own pep talk.” Lucretia called out, her eyes flashing with barely hidden excitement. Ron wanted to cry… why did she have to poke the sleeping bat?!

To everyone’s astonishment, Snape’s answer was to walk even further away. 

“Severus dear, are you sure it’s wise to turn your back to me? I thought you knew better.”

Snape simply continued to walk further away.

The others were now gaping openly as they caught onto a possible shared history between the two. In a flash, Lucretia stalked after him.

“Am I being a bother to you, dearest?”

“A bother? Hardly.” Snape sneered. “And I’m not your dearest.”

“Then why are you not looking at me? Don’t you miss my presence?” Lucretia cooed.

“I have never wanted to look upon one such as you, Black.” Snape spat. 

“Aww, as prickly as ever, Sevvy. You should loosen up!”

“I’m here to teach,” Snape snarled, getting increasingly agitated, “–not go galumphing around with a stalker. Either you listen to my class without causing disturbance or take your leave quietly. And you’ll remove your cleavage from my face _right this instant_!”

There was a moment of silence before Tom burst into laughter. His laughter was so unexpected that Harry was entranced for a long moment before joining in. Belatedly, he recalled Tom casting the silencing spell and was grateful for it. He would certainly not mention it to Tom, or he’d be reprimanded for the lack of foresight again. 

At this very moment, Harry was sorely tempted to grab the man and kiss him deeply. He held himself back though – this was not an appropriate time for snogging.

The man was still shaking with mirth even after Snape had properly begun the lesson by separating all those present into opposing pairs, pitting each summoner and guardian team against another. 

“Oh I’ve definitely heard there was something between the two. I never realized Lucretia was stalking him!” Tom chuckled under his breath.

Harry was puzzled hearing Tom refer to Lucretia by her first name rather than Ms. Black in that overly formal manner he tended towards. He parted his lips and made to inquire about it.

However, he was quite suddenly distracted when he noticed that Ron and Lucretia had been paired up against Malfoy and the dragon. On second thought, he should not have been surprised given the sort of biasness their professor was inclined towards. 

Somewhere on the side, he could hear McLaggen screaming as he found he could not remove his hands from the watery mane of Susan’s Kelpie guardian, while the girl took the opportunity to give him a cast a few highly-charged electricity spells at him. Smith was also busy engaging in a verbal fight with his own hag, completely ignoring his own opponent.

Meanwhile, Lucretia’s attention seemed to be occupied by the hooked-nose professor prowling around the grounds as he monitored the duels. Weasley was working hard alone to avoid the wickedly sharp claws and spiked tail of the dragon. Unfortunately, he failed to notice what Malfoy was up to, hidden behind his dragon’s massive haunches. Ron had barely leaped over a particularly vicious swipe of claws when he saw the telltale glow of a successful summon. 

He let loose a string of expletives when numerous venomous snakes rushed his way, alerting him to Malfoy’s position above a freshly drawn ritual circle. The few minutes was spent testing Ron’s reflexes to the limits, as he simultaneously banished the snakes and avoided the dragon’s attacks. The gangly teen gritted his teeth in anger and shame at not having blocked Malfoy’s ritual cast. He had to get there and destroy the circle or it would not cease spitting out more serpents. But the dragon was blocking his path and it was huge!

“Lucretia!” Ron bellowed, and the demoness snapped her attention back to where it should have been.

Things moved very quickly afterwards and the dark-haired beauty released a current of demonic energy, sweeping both Malfoy and his dragon out from under their feet while Ron sprinted over to erase the ritual circle. Before their opponents had time to recover, Lucretia waved her wand and sent an overpowered _Confringo_ curse at Malfoy. The blonde swerved and hid behind his dragon as the curse was fired. The Hebridean Black roared in pain and fury as its right flank was blasted open and it began bleeding profusely. Ron watched in shock as the great beast swung its neck towards Draco and snapped its massive jaws dangerously close to its own summoner. Draco jumped away, frightened. The ginger wondered if this had happened more than once.

“Oh ho! Trouble in paradise? You pair of ugly and stupid horse-faced ferret and Flobberworm!” Ron crowed and jeered. 

He was excited when no retort came his way. Ron took the chance to insult them further.

“Tossers!”

Twin glares swerved and pointed his way and the ginger stiffened. 

Damn his potty mouth. 

He was excruciatingly aware that the dragon had opened its jaw impossibly wide to release a sizeable stream of fire directly at him, but incapable of dodging or shielding himself in time. 

Closing his eyes, he prayed for divine providence and sent his farewells to his loved ones.

 _I am so sorry and I love you all and will never forget you when I reach the afterlife, Mum, Dad, Hermione, Harry, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, Pigwidgeon, Fleur, Aunt Muriel (not really)…_

It occurred to Ron that even though it was unbearably hot, the fire was taking an inordinately long time to reach him. He was running out of people to send silent farewells to. Despite sweating profusely, he felt no burn against his skin.

He slowly cracked his eyes open and widened them abruptly when he took in the scene. His guardian was standing next to him, affecting a nonchalant stance with her hair blowing about wildly as she held up an immensely strong shield against the fiery onslaught. A shield that most summoners would not be able to conjure, let alone maintain. She looked like a fearsome warrior goddess. 

“Woah,” Ron breathed out in awe. 

Lucretia held the shield until the fire finally petered out. As the air cleared, Ron became aware of the other pairs who had halted their duels to stare upon him and his guardian in barely concealed shock. Malfoy had also gone into shock as he registered that his brows were singed clean off his face by the rebounded flames.

Silence descended upon the dueling grounds until Snape said a quiet “Class dismissed.” Malfoy collapsed onto the smudged remains of his ritual circle and his guardian limped off angrily. The blonde was angry and worried and fearful. 

Malfoy also realised that perhaps there was greater competition than he had initially expected for the tournament. Ronald fucking Weasley. How had he ever gotten a guardian this powerful? Malfoy was determined to right this mistake.

The others scampered forward, chattering excitedly all at once while trying to gain the attention of the glorious Lucretia Black.

The demoness however, was indifferent to the attention of the other summoners and guardians, and proceeded to pester the professor. 

“Sevvvyyy,” she sung, “was that not a beautiful performance? Was I not a good student? Should you not _reward_ me?” Lucretia threw her arms up, and wiggled her hips and her brows obscenely.

Harry came to three conclusions as he watched the scene. One, Ron would do marvelously well in the tournament. Two, Lucretia Black was extremely powerful. Three, if Lucretia wanted Uncle Severus’ affections, she was going about it entirely the wrong way.

_____________________________________________________________________

It had been an exciting day, watching Ron’s practical lesson and silently cheering his best mate on. And now it was a great time for him and Tom to relax.

The sun was setting and the pair had decided to skip the usual Hogwarts dinner to while their time away by the Black Lake, watching as the light glittered across the water surface – like a million topazes scattered.

“I had a talk with your school nurse,” Tom said casually as they lay there on the grass next to a picnic spread of food on a small mat.

Harry perked up, feeling apprehensive. “Oh. W-what did she say?” 

“Aside from asking me if I knew about the growth of your magical core, not much else.”

Harry slumped. The truth was out. He would have to confront this sooner or later.

“We had a very pleasant discussion and came to the conclusion that there’s nothing to worry about. We just need to monitor the situation.” His guardian assured him. 

“T-that’s it?”

“Of course, there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about, my dear.” 

“So then… I’m alright?” Harry asked in surprise. 

“What you really mean to ask,” Tom murmured and leaned forward, “is whether you are no longer considered a freak.”

Harry stiffened as he heard the words. The darkly handsome man tilted his face towards the delectable green-eyed creature in front of him and pressed his nose lightly against his summoner’s neck. He took a deep breath, catching a whiff of the intoxicating scent of miasma that the boy tried so hard to hide. The same electrifying aroma that had so scared the unicorn, Daphne, of the Greengrass tribe. 

“I assure you, there is nothing ‘freaky’ about you, Harry. You are beautiful.”

Tom smirked as Harry tried his best not to blush for the umpteenth time that day. In a rare show of generosity, the man leaned away to give the teen his personal space. 

“So, why the special occasion? What made you decide to have a picnic out here?”

His companion did not reply, merely looking out upon the breathtaking scenery around them. The burnt amber cast of the sun tinted the leaves with autumn colours as they blew about in the August breeze. Golden lights danced upon the surface of the lake but failed to pierce the shadows of the watery depths. Harry’s soft, unkempt hair lifted in a sudden gust of wind and he lifted his face to enjoy the feel of the air – a tiny glint of the soulful emeralds peeking out under the thick lashes of his half-lidded eyes.

Tom thought he had never seen a more beautiful creature. 

“My aunt – my mother’s sister, Petunia, – passed away on a day much like this one. She had only been five that year.” Harry paused, unsure how to continue, but he shouldered on. 

“For reasons unknown, she was born a muggle, and so fell prey to the ill-effects of the miasma. My mother was there when Petunia became a monster. Her family killed and buried her.”

He gave a sad little smile.

“I know many would have killed their babies had they been born muggles rather than let them turn into monsters eventually. And they would have never have let it be known that such taint was ever born into their families. But the Evans thought it a barbaric practice. But when it came time to kill their own daughter, they already loved her so much that they fell into depression and never recovered.”

Tom remained silent.

“It was this incident that led my mother to dedicate her life to discovering a way to combat the toxins of the miasma, working on vaccines and such. It shaped her views of the world, of how everyone and everything had a right to life, had a right to choice. That whether we had magic or not, more or less, it matters little. Sometimes though, I wonder if she had ever gotten over her trauma of the incident. Had she not been there, what would her life have been like? Would she have pursued her dreams of working on summoning charms? Would she have brought me out into the world to experience more?” 

“Your parents did not let you explore the world? One would have thought with a famous quester for a father, a child like you would have had many adventures.”

“No… she guarded me fiercely from a young age, ensuring that I have never seen a single monster with my own eyes. Because of what she'd experienced, my father decided it was not something to fight with her over.” 

“And what are your thoughts on this? On the eventual death of muggles as they are altered by the effects of the miasma.”

Harry pursed his lips, deep in thought.

“I do not know. It is sad, certainly, but there is little place for muggles in our world that is entirely shaped by the miasma and magic. Even in the hypothetical situation that they were to survive infancy and childhood, what would become of them as they entered society? But of course this never happens.”

“And hence you care not about their fates?”

“That is… not right either. Sometimes I find it hard to take a stance on some of the issues others view in colours of black and white. It’s just, things are not that simple and you know me, I am not a particularly rational or logical sort of person. But, just as I worry about others of magic, I worry for those born without. 

And I, I really do believe that something can be done about the harm that the miasma causes to everyone. Magical beings like us are also able to fall prey to overexposure. Yet I do not wish the miasma gone.” 

“No indeed not,” Tom agreed, “Miasma is the lifeblood of our world, it allows us all to thrive, heals our sicknesses, renew nature from the damages we have wrought upon it.” 

“Then why are muggles even born? I mean… what causes people to born so incompatible with magic and miasma? To have such a horrible fate from birth…”

Harry sighed and they both fell into a solemn but comfortable silence, soaking in the soporific atmosphere and watching the slow dip of the sun over the horizon. 

Presently, Harry shook himself out of his daze and moved to cut four slices of bread that he had baked. He spread some butter on one side of each slice and laid out a few thick strips of golden, fried potato, squeezing a generous serving of tomato and brown sauces upon the potato strips, and sandwiched them between two slices of bread. 

He handed the sandwich to Tom, eyes lit in anticipation.

Tom gingerly took it, looking rather apprehensively at the odd snack for a few minutes before taking a bite.

There was a moment of silence.

“This…” Tom said, for once, truly speechless.

Harry burst into laughter at the expression upon Tom’s face, clutching his sides as tears rolled down his face.

“Say hello to the glorious Chip Butty!” Harry said in between giggles.

“Cheep? Cheep _what_?”

“Chip Butty! Well, that’s just the name of the sandwich. It’s just about the only thing my father knows how to make, and we always eat this on the days my mother visits my aunt’s grave. I think about eating Chip Buttys frequently during the Autumn season, even if I am not at home.”

Tom could not help but lift the corners of his mouth into a wry smile. “It tastes good.” He conceded. 

The two chuckled and returned to the spread in front of them, enjoying fruits and cheeses and other picnic fare, and each other’s company until their bellies were full.

As Harry moved on his knees to pack up the remaining cloth and utensils into the basket, Tom gently rested his hand upon Harry’s head and brushed the soft hair from his forehead.

“Perhaps you will find yourself in the position to solve the issue of the miasma. Perhaps you will change the world for the better, my dear Harry. If you so wish.”

Harry knelt there upon the grass, stunned. Nobody aside from his own family put faith in him like this. Never had anyone spoke of his potential beyond one of foolhardy questing, expecting him to follow in James’ footsteps, to be just like his father. And for that, he was grateful.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, it was lit with a fiery determination that had Tom’s once-dead heart beating again.

“Perhaps, Tom, perhaps.”


	8. Lesson Eight: Asking For Advice Is Easy, Getting Good Advice When You Need It, Is Entirely a Matter of Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a big apology for having taken so long on this update! It's been a tough time in my life (medical), and I've taken a while to try and catch up with everything. I assure you I won't be abandoning this story, and I want to give a big thank you to all those who have given kudos and comments and bookmarks, your support makes my heart swell with happiness! Second, this took even longer than I anticipated because I am just not very satisfied with this chapter but in the grand scheme of things, I think it would be best I get this out quicker and move on with the plot anyways. Sorry if I made any writing mistakes, I've edited this so many times I can't spot what's wrong... More will be talked about chapter-wise in the author's note at the end. Hope you enjoy this!

“Ow!” Harry cried out. He checked his shin which was now dripping a rather steady stream of blood. “ _Episkey!_ ” he said, with no small amount of annoyance, as his wound began to close up with the healing spell. It was a rather deep cut and he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t still bleeding internally even if the surface had been closed up.

“Oh goodness! Harry!” Ginny exclaimed, as the redhead hurried to the teen’s side with a clean and simple handkerchief. She proceeded to wipe up the blood off his leg. 

“That’s alright, don’t worry about it,” Harry said flustered. He knelt beside the girl in a state of awkwardness. Ginny’s previously white handkerchief was now stained a bright red, and Harry felt somewhat awful and embarrassed about it.

“What happened?” The youngest Weasley asked. 

“Some git left a dragon talon stuck there! I just happened to walk by and sliced myself on it. Look! It’s been sharpened to a point!” Harry grumbled as he flicked at the dragon talon, which was so fine at its pointy end that it made such a quick slice, it hadn’t caught any of his blood when he ran into it. 

“Who would do that?”

“Hmm, let’s see, who else has a dragon here? The last one with a dragon guardian was Penelope Clearwater and she’s already graduated. I’m putting my bet on some slimy blonde-haired git.”

“Come on then Harry, I’ll bring you to the hospital wing, get that checked in case.”

“No no, its fine, I’ll just make my way there myself. Please, go on ahead. You’ve been back at Hogwarts only a few days, wouldn’t want to be late for class in the first week.”

“Alright then, Harry, I’m sure you speak from experience.” Ginny giggled.

Her friend gave her a sheepish smile before walking away with a slight limp caused by the phantom pains in his leg.

Ginny watched him leave, feeling a twinge of guilt, before smoothly removing the dragon talon from the bannister where it had been tied. It wasn’t a secret that Harry usually walked by this area outside of the seventh years common room, but Ginny had observed the teen often making a rather fast and sharp turn round this particular corner.

She tucked the talon into her bag together with the carefully wrapped bloodied handkerchief. She had had to borrow one of Charlie’s spare talons from his collection that she hoped he wouldn’t miss.

The ginger strode at a rapid pace to the Hall of Records, where guardian rituals archives were stored. It was a large room nestled within the dungeons of Hogwarts, within which a copy made of every single summoning ritual cast on the school grounds was stored. 

Ginny was determined to get at the copy of Harry’s summoning ritual of his guardian, but access was restricted to only the caster through blood identification. And so she thusly devised a plan to collect the blood of Harry Potter. She felt a little bad but she had to satisfy her suspicions.

Her curiosity was piqued on her first night back when she finally reunited with the school’s Golden Trio and their new guardians. She had frozen in shock when she was introduced to Tom, Harry’s unbelievably handsome guardian. She’d heard about him from Ron of course, and none of the descriptive phrases used had been exaggerated.

But it didn’t prepare her for how wrong the man felt. Ginny had always prided herself for her intuition, it helped her save her wayward brothers from the trouble they got themselves into many a times. And her intuition had been shouting and screaming at her that Tom Riddle was bad news. 

Yet no one seemed to find him suspicious; the way he often answered questions in a manner that lacked straightforwardness, and the extremely tactile behaviour he affected around Harry. It spoke of an overwhelming possessiveness. She could not help but notice that his arm never left Harry’s waist during the entire evening. While it was not her business on which summoner and guardian could not keep their hands off each other, she knew for a fact that Harry disliked physical contact with anyone he hadn’t known for more than half a decade. 

And Harry kept blushing! _Harry!_ One of the school’s ‘princes’ known for being kind but firm in turning down advances from his horde of fangirls, reduced to a bumbling mess next to his guardian. 

One could usually count on Hermione to be observant and pick these signs up, but the precocious summoner had her plate full with her own unusual guardian, and was unable to pay attention to the goings-on around her. So it was up to Ginny to figure it out. The redhead pushed Harry to share the details of his summoning ritual, and her suspicions rose when he started to mumble and look shiftily at Tom. It wasn’t until she noticed his left foot tapping erratically on the carpeted floor that she made her decision to investigate. 

For Harry had a couple of ticks – Ginny had known him since they were mere children and she learned to recognise all the signs.

This included a habit of stuttering if he was nervous. ( _Check._ It happened every time Tom’s hands brushed against Harry’s shoulders or thighs.) He would then look shiftily if he felt like he was being pressurised to answer something he wanted to hide. ( _Check._ Every time she asked him about his guardian summoning ritual.) The last and most significant sign was the tapping of his left foot when he realised he had done something really wrong and was putting in his utmost effort to convince himself it never happened. ( _Check._ When she asked about his summoner pitch.) 

Left-foot-tapping meant very bad news. The last time it happened, she had dragged out his confession of having drenched himself in an unknown potion, and he was sent to the hospital wing immediately. Madam Pomfrey had a fit with figurative smoke blowing out from her nostrils as she told Harry very angrily that they were not a moment too soon – another hour without treatment and he would be carted off to St. Mungos’ emergency ward.

The unrepentant boy had replied Madam Pomfrey with a squeaky “mimblemumble”.

Recalling the conversation provoked her ire further, and she quickened her pace towards her destination. A dwarf was walking out of the door of the hall at the moment and Ginny swiftly hid in an alcove to avoid any questions. 

Once the dwarf was a good distance away, she slipped through the black drapes of the entrance and stealthily crept around the ceiling high shelves to the back of the hall, where the guardian ritual records were kept. She was no natural at stealth but growing up with unrepentant pranksters in her family had taught her a few useful things.

The hall was decidedly empty in the section she stood at, and she considered it good fortune. She gripped, dislodged and pulled down the shelf holding the parchment for identification. Using one hand, she retrieved the bloodied handkerchief and rubbed it violently on the parchment to transfer some of Harry’s blood, hoping it was not completely dried by now.

As the blood on it faded, the parchment glowed and a small scroll shot out from one of the shelves and landed in her hand.

The redhead took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she may see within. As she unfurled the scroll, she made a quick scan of the ritual circle Harry had used. Fortunately for Harry, she had yet to complete her class on this particular circle and was thus unable to grasp the details of the ring of offerings. Unfortunately for Harry, she had completed her class on runic summoner pitches and was more than capable of translating the words ‘Harry James Potter’ in the boy’s pitch. His name, his _own name_ , in a _summoner’s pitch_.

Ginny groaned and smacked her forehead into the scroll. She knew it! Her friend’s actions always got himself into more trouble than it was worth. 

“Oh Merlin… Harry!!! Of all the unbelievably foolish, _idiotic_ things to do…”

This was out of her hands, for all she knew, Harry may have already been compromised in some manner. But she wasn’t sure yet whether it was wise to bring this to a professor immediately or wait to hear Harry’s opinion. Her friend always guarded his secrets carefully from authority figures, and she respected that. Still, she could not figure this out herself. 

Because Harry managed to make escapism and denial into an art form.

She needed help. 

She needed Hermione Granger.

_____________________________________________________________________ 

“Look at me, Harry.”

Emerald green eyes stared into bottomless black ones.

“Hmm… seems you weren’t downplaying it.”

“Did you just read my mind!?”

Tom smirked. “My dear Harry, you do not get away with alarming me by leaving the hospital wing with a bandaged leg and telling me most unconvincingly that ‘it was nothing’.”

“Well yes, but then I did tell you what happened…”

“You did eventually, after a great deal of pushing on my part. I shouldn’t have to say this Harry, but there is no benefit to you hiding your injuries from me, or those who care about you. No rational or logical reason for you to embarrassed about it either.”

Harry could not help a small pout from forming.

“From now on, you will let me know if any harm comes to you, accidental or not. Do I make myself clear?”

“… Fine.” 

“Now don’t sulk, dear.” Tom sighed. 

Harry responded with his own sigh and walked glumly about in the courtyard. It seemed as if this was a serious flaw of his, if even Tom was to be added to the list of ‘people who reprimanded’ him on his taciturn behaviour.

The September winds were chilly this year, he noted, shivering a little from the lack of warmer clothing on his body. He felt Tom stand behind him before a soft, luxurious scarf was snugly wrapped around his neck. He craned his neck to peer up at Tom through his lashes. 

The smile he received from the handsome dark brunet sent his heart into a frenzy once again. His only comfort was that he would soon be summoning enough courage to ask for some much needed advice, pun not intended.  
_____________________________________________________________________

Lucretia Black sat on a comfortable cushioned armchair opposite the empty gilded throne as she waited patiently in the Room of Requirement.

And what a fantastic room it was! It provided everything you needed, just by reading your thoughts. The demons needed one just like this back in their underground lair. 

As if reacting to her desires, the room began to shift, taking on a dimmer and darker cast, and the walls turned to grey stones. Two flaming scones appeared on the wall beside the throne which was now a deep black.

Lucretia shivered. Suddenly she didn’t feel so comfortable anymore. She looked down to discover her comfy armchair has become a hard-backed and stiff chair. This was much reminiscent of the Demon Court and the fear that would strike in each of their tainted souls as they waited upon their master’s arrival. It always made her feel small and inferior, and yet ready to do anything to please her master. She had been picked among the other lieutenant demons to accompany their lord without much information before she arrived at Hogwarts, due to rushed nature of the mission. 

(Not that that would have stopped her. She wouldn’t squander such a great opportunity to pursue her darling Severus.)

She knew what made her a good candidate – her ability to adapt and her prowess at stealth. Lucretia may have had gained notoriety among certain circles (mainly the ones she had slaughtered, and the dead never bothered her afterwards) but she was not a common household name unlike the generals of the Demon Court. 

Despite her skill in masking reactions, she had nevertheless been surprised at the summoner her master had chosen – the Potter boy that Bellatrix was forever sending morbid gifts to. 

But that was no matter of her concern, her purpose was only to serve and protect her master in this foreign land, carry out his nefarious plans, and importantly, to prevent any unwanted attention befalling him. 

Even if it meant leaving traps around to prevent Severus from noticing her master’s presence. 

Lucretia had no idea if Severus had ever seen this form of Lord Voldemort, or only the serpentine form he favoured when among non-demons. Regardless, she would not test the possibility of the professor recognising his ex-teacher. 

Lately, she worried if she had been doing a good enough job. She would not entertain failure, she didn’t want to disappoint her lord. This had been a fantastic opportunity and she hated to think she might be incapable or weak.

In an instant, the demoness was looking upon the throne from a much lower position than before. She looked down again, pursing her full lips in displeasure. She was atop a rickety wooden stool now, shoulders slumped and her skirt bunched up, giving her the image of an unnaturally massive bum.

Lucretia quickly tidied her dress, letting the hem of her long skirts pool more gracefully around her feet. 

Maybe the Room of Requirement was a little too clever for her tastes.

The door swung open and Tom strolled in, his resplendent robes with stiffened lapels flipping behind him imposingly. He stopped in the middle of the room and took in his surroundings, a smirk slowly creeping upon his face. He turned to the pathetic figure the demoness cut with his eyebrow raised and casually waved his hand, returning the room to its original state before Lucretia’s thoughts had run away from her. 

The Demon Overlord seated himself regally in the deep gold throne, with one leg crossed over the other. His mien noble and dignified.

Lucretia glanced at her master expectantly, but the man remained quiet, observing.

Time ticked by, quite literally, as an old grandfather’s clock appeared to far side of the room, its ticking sounds beating a loud rhythm upon her nerves. Tom was now sporting a wide smirk.

This was bad. Her master was in a playful mood and she did not want to get burned and crushed as he often did with his toys.

He tilted his head and eyed her, waiting.

She wondered if perhaps he was expecting her to speak up first, despite the clear rules for demons to never speak before their Overlord allowed them to.

Steeling herself, she asked hesitantly, “My lord, is this about… my inadequate protection of your lordship at Hogwarts?”

Silence.

“Is this about the Malfoy boy? I am in the process of…” She trailed off at the look of boredom on her master’s face. 

In this case it could only be…

“It’s Harry Potter, is it not, my Lord?” she murmured. The triumphant glint in his ruby red eyes told her she was right.

How could it not be? Everything these days seemed to revolve around Harry Potter where her lord was concerned. She had initially taken on Bellatrix’s task for her with an expectation of protecting her lord while he sought excitement and pleasures of the flesh from a catamite. 

A temporary distraction from the monotony of his lonely reign. 

The way the Potter boy looked, with his pretty green eyes, boyish charm and small but lithe frame, he would have been very desirable to any of those perverted creatures with unsavoury natures.

But her time here had shown her otherwise. Harry was no weakling and no simpleton. He might be more reserved than the boisterous Ron Weasley, but he had a sort of quiet strength in him. A hidden liquid steel. She found herself inevitably drawn to him, hoping to find out more about the product of the famous couple, Lily and James Potter. She was not alone in this.

Her lord was, for lack of a better word, _obsessed_ with the boy. 

She had seen the way he looked at Harry hungrily, when he thought the boy wasn’t paying attention. 

It didn’t seem to be the sort of cruel and passing fancy he often had for others who sparked his momentary interest, but something else altogether. She had after all been forewarned by Barty, who everyone (except Bella) agreed came closest to understanding their master, that Lord Voldemort would soon harbour deep feelings for the Potter scion. 

She suspected he already did.

Perhaps at some corner of her mind, she recognised the danger of broaching the topic of one Harry Potter, and had tried to avoid it. Doubtlessly, she would have to tread carefully now.

“What about Severus Snape do you find attractive, Lucretia?”

Startled out of her reverie, she struggled to find words to describe the infatuation she had for the dour man.

“He is… neither very handsome nor has a shining personality. But he is powerful in his own right, despite being a human. And most importantly, I admire the sincere manner with which he treats anything or anyone he considers worth his time.”

“Is that all?”

Lucretia didn’t understand, what was her lord trying to get at?

“Do you not have a more convincing reason to fancy him? What made you first aware that you liked him?”

How odd, why would he need to know what virtues or conversely, failings, the professor had? The gloomy man had after all been a direct pupil of her master, he should have been even more cognizant of what Severus was like. Was he thinking of bringing Severus into the fold? Finally turn him into a demon against his will? Whatever the reason, she had to be honest with the one sitting across her. 

“My lord, I find I do not need much more to like a person. It is… not a matter of rationality or of careful calculations. Perhaps to many, Snape is not an attractive man. But finding logical reasons may not be enough, it is everything altogether that makes me certain of my affections. I simply find my heart beating faster, an excitement and yearning to see the person, lavish my attentions upon him, care for him.”

Was it as Barty suspected? Had the Demon Overlord really fallen for the Potter boy?

Funny how Rabastan was just mocking her about Severus Snape before she left to come to Hogwarts. He called her a cradle snatcher. Hah! Wonder what he would say when he saw their lord – the man _over 5000 years_ under his belt! What did that make him? Though of course, the rules never applied to the Supreme Overlord.

She waited for her lord to reply as he sat upon his throne, deep in thought. He leaned to the side, a few dark locks of hair falling across his forehead. 

Presently, he spoke. 

“This ‘heart beating faster’ syndrome. Describe it to me.”

Huh?

Oh. 

Oh… 

_Oh dear._

_Hell no!_ Her master was asking her for advice on _love_!? 

Every demon save Barty believed their lord to be incapable of love. A common consensus. Fondness perhaps, some level of mild affection. But ‘heart beating’, steadfast love? 

“Do you… do you mean…” she took a deep breath, “do you mean love, my lord.”

Voldemort sneered at her. “Silly child, of course we aren’t talking about something as foolish as love.”

Oh just _wonderful_. Lucretia thought. 

How could one teach Lord Voldemort about being _in_ love, when he didn’t even believe in _love_?

How could she _teach_ him about love!? 

How could _she_ teach _him_ about love!?

Lucretia knew she had earned her heartless, ruthless reputation. But this was the first time in five decades that she felt like crying.

She definitely couldn’t do this alone.

She needed…

She needed help. 

She needed Barty Crouch.

_____________________________________________________________________

Harry paced about the Room of Requirement, watching the grandfather clock as he waited for the minute hand to reach twelve.

A roaring fireplace was the main feature of the room, with a small canister of Floo powder on its mantel piece. Harry chewed his bottom lip worriedly. He had finally worked up enough courage but he wasn’t sure how his questions would be received.

With the sensitive nature of the topic he hoped to discuss, he decided to forgo Owl Center Calling, which while infinitely more convenient (and did not cause soot-induced coughs), proved to be less than ideal for this particular situation. The owls were a race of the biggest gossipers. Harry was sure if they tapped into his conversation, they would be hooting the news all the way to Asia before he could say “tweet”. 

No. This time round, he would be wise to use the more archaic methods of calling – Fire-calling with a dash of Floo powder through the fireplace. 

When it was time for his mother to have reached home from her research, he determinedly activated the Floo network to fire-call his home at Godric’s Hollow.

“Mum?” he called out.

There was a sound of chair scrapping across the wooden floor and hurried footsteps before Sirius came into view.

“Oh sweet Morgana, it’s Harry!” His godfather exclaimed. 

“Padfoot? Where’s Mum?” Harry queried, puzzled.

“Oh, James and Lily are at St Mungos to pick up Remus,” the man explained, before he caught sight of Harry’s expression and hurriedly adding on, “but not to worry, it’s just some minor injuries from their last quest. I’m just waiting here for them to be home and James has ordered some dinner for tonight.”

“Ah alright.”

“Well, you could wait for her I guess?”

“Yea, or maybe another time.”

“Is it urgent? You can tell me and I’ll pass the message along.”

“No it’s just… I think it may be easier to talk to Mum about it.”

“Wait. Whyyyyy?! It’s something you can’t tell your god-daddy? Is it a secret? Is it an urgent secret?”

When Harry looked hesitant, Sirius gave an over-exaggerated pout.

“Come on, Prongslet! You can let little ol’ me know.” The man whined. “Come on! Come on, my weedle Hawwy!”

Harry sighed. He knew how pushy Sirius could be. 

“You still owe me a favour, Harry. I got your mum off your back for your tardiness, didn’t I? Blacks don’t forget what is owed to them.”

“ _Fine_. It’s not a secret per say. It’s just, I need some advice.”

“Yes?” Sirius asked eagerly, leaning his chin upon his palms as he settled down flat upon his stomach in front of the fireplace with his legs kicking about childishly behind him.

“Umm… Oh Merlin, I do not know how to say this… Uh… okay. Padfoot, what do you think about… a– abou… about men and men relationships.” Harry finished lamely.

“WHO IS IT!?” Sirius shouted in a deafening voice as he leaned up on his forearms in excitement. “Is it that boy you used to hang out with before he graduated? Saddick or something.”

“ _Cedric!_ I can’t believe you still don’t know his name, he _did_ win the last Quadsummoner at the novice level. And no it’s not him.” 

“Oh ah, I haven’t been paying attention to the novice levels for a few years, but I’ll watch out for when you compete. Oh I know! Is it that guardian of yours? Tom? Is it? It’d better not be the Malfoy boy.”

“No of course it’s not Malfoy!”

“Ah hah! So then it _is_ Tom!”

Harry groaned.

“I’m all-knowing, Harry, _all-knowing_. Sooooo! How far in the relationship are you?”

“Not even begun, Padfoot. I haven’t reached the starting line.”

“Oh boooo! Boringggg!”

“… This isn’t a soap opera, Siri.” 

“Yes it is. When is it starting?”

“…”

“Why are you suddenly so worried anyway? If it happens, it happens.” Sirius shrugged nonchalantly.

“If _what_ happens?” Harry shot back. 

The boy sighed. “Flitwick’s going to be busy teaching the seventh years for the next month or so, so all of us have novice assignments from the Questing Guild. I have two of them planned with Tom and we’ll be away from Hogwarts then. We do already share a room now but I think, camping together may be different. I’m a little worried about it.”

Sirius’ laughter sounded rather like a cross between a bark and a cackle.

“It’s not funny, Siri. He’s been getting even more handsy lately, and I don’t know if he’s teasing or if he’s trying to send me some signals –“ 

“ _Handsy_?” Sirius cut in, eyes flashing dangerously. “Some man is getting handsy with my wee Harry!? Is he being handsy on INAPPROPRIATE PLACES!? DO YOU _DISLIKE IT_!?” He roared.

“No!!! Calm down, Siri! You’re so weird! First you get excited and then you get overprotective. Make up your mind!”

Sirius sent him a sheepish look. 

Harry sighed again. “I… I don’t feel uncomfortable. Not really. In fact, I q-quite like it –” 

“Oh. Ohhhh. You _like_ it. Okay. Phew. Yea. You know, I just worry because I know you're growing up, and I want you to explore and have new experiences. But I don't want anyone messing with you either. But! This is a good time for exploration! Get on with some sexy times!”

Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the eyebrow wiggling. “Uhhh. You make everything sound dirty –” 

His godfather muttered under his breath. “You’re such a prude, Harry. I swear sometimes Lily kept you too pure for your own good.”

"What was that you said?"

“Nothing. But back to the topic, this Tom of yours is attractive right?”

“Yes well… Very.”

“You know, I often find that’s good enough for me!” Sirius said smugly, puffing his chest out. “I’m the kind of fellow who accepts an engagement in sexual activities with just about anything and anyone as long as they are attractive and they catch my fancy.” 

“I… I’m not sure that’s even something to be proud of –”

“In other words, I can have sex with anything!”

Harry tried his best not to groan. _And that was six words I never wanted to hear my godfather say_ , he thought.

Sirius sighed and moved into a cross-legged seating position, smacking his palms flat on his thighs a couple of times. He suddenly looked very serious.

“Pup, I can’t say it plainer than this – there’s nothing to fret about. Like all things, homosexuality will always be accepted by some, and frowned upon by others. You should never assume that you can change what people think, how people behave, and whether they will hurt you just because you’re different. Whether you are a wizard, whether you are fat, whether you are gay, there will be people who will _always_ find something to be unhappy about you. You could be the greatest and nicest person alive and it would still not be enough.”

Sirius paused here, eyes turned to the ceiling. When he spoke again, his eyes were misty.

“If you’re worried about the judgment of others, then you have already lost the first battle. You cannot expect others to be kind to you; _you_ are the only one who can be sure to show kindness to yourself. 

If you’re worried about how others could hurt you because of their judgment, then you can only hone yourself to be the sharpest blade and the strongest shield – to do your very best to stand for what you believe in. All the while you must understand that not all will work in your favour. 

The only way is forward and you can only do that when you have first accepted yourself.”

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned as he absorbed the speech, surprised by the insights that his godfather had provided him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had an inkling of what was said, but it still helped tremendously for someone else to tell it to him, to sort it out into words that struck at his very core. 

The two fell into a comfortable silence while Harry pondered over his godfather’s words.

“Thanks for that Padfoot. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

“I just… sometimes I wonder if I would be destroying the legacy of the Potters if… well, I am the only child. It would be my duty to pass on the line…”

“Oh Prongslet… how could you imagine that burden to be yours to carry?” Sirius gritted his teeth, and Harry was quite suddenly reminded that neither Sirius nor Regulus had children, despite their parents’ wishes. He felt guilty for asking Sirius a question that touched his raw nerves. He had no intention to insinuate that his godfather wasn’t performing his heir duties properly.

“You are your own person, Harry, no one has the right to tell you to make a new life if you don’t want to. That’s irresponsible behaviour and the child will suffer for it. Besides, if all hell broke loose tomorrow; our society falls to disrepair and we’re buried six feet underground, what then? 

What I mean to say is the world will continue to run without the Potters or even the Blacks – in the grand scheme of our universe and time, we’re just not that important. Given time, all things fade away.”

Sirius drew a deep breath. “Besides, you could just blood adopt a kid, give someone else a home, eh?” 

Harry smiled softly at him, his gratefulness for Sirius’ support shining in his eyes. Yes, he could admit that he had teared a little, because it was nice to know that someone else preferred him to make his own choices when it came to the life he wanted. Someone like Sirius, like his parents, like… Tom. 

Harry pondered for a moment, and then asked the next question on his mind. 

“Thanks, Siri. I think I’m a little clearer now about what to do. But… I’m still worried. Tom is not the most forthcoming sort of person. I do think we’ve spent quite a lot of time together and I believe I know him rather well. But still, he hides things from me – important things. I don’t know if a relationship could work out this way.”

“And yourself, pup? You have no shortage of secrets either. Have you ever told him about your ability to control the miasma?”

Harry shook his head, sparks flying out of the fireplace in his home at Godric’s Hollow. Sirius was right; that was rather double standard of him.

“You think I should tell him? You think he would still accept me after knowing that I’m a f… after knowing that?” Harry caught himself before he said the word ‘freak’ – he could see the warning glance in Sirius’ eyes as the man realised what Harry almost let slip.

“Ultimately, that is a decision for you to make, Harry. But you know what your mother would say; ‘sincere communication is key’. If you need any wisdom on that matter, I’m sure Lily has no shortage of it.”

They both shared a grin at that. 

“In any case Prongslet, what are your plans regarding Tom?”

“I’ll take it as it comes. If it happens, it happens.” He winked at Sirius and they both burst into laughter. 

“No, but seriously, I think if the situation arises where I could talk about, well, whatever it is between Tom and I, I won’t hesitate to do so. 

“Atta boy! Now, for a very important question.”

“Yea?”

“Is your Tom the dominant one?”

“Dominant…? I think you mean domineering? He does display a controlling streak –” 

“Then I just have one very important advice for you, pup.” The man said sternly.

“Yes?”

“Use lots and lots of lube.”

“Luuu… Whaaa…!?” Harry spluttered. “Siri, I don’t think we would –” 

“Trust me – _lots of lube_! When I was younger, I met this handsome bloke but damn he was _huge_ –” 

“SIRI!!! Just… just stop.”

“Yea. Okay. Yea. Sorry there, got carried away.” Sirius gave a wide, gummy smile. 

The conversation steered towards safer topics, much to Harry’s relief. He had no desire to hear his godfather’s wild sexual exploits. 

When the fire-call finally ended, Sirius laid his head on the floor, exhausted.

The wavy-haired quester was in two halves about the news; he was glad that Harry was finally showing some form of romantic interest in a person, but he was concerned that neither he nor James and Lily had yet to meet the mysterious wizard. Besides, it was still better to let Harry’s caring parents deal with this.

Sirius was going to have to tell them about the news, or Lily would have his head.

“Hey Prongs, Lils, Moony, you’re back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to skip this lengthy note, it just expands a bit on why this chapter was hard for me. Because frankly, I had no inclination to provide an extended commentary on issues of gender and homosexuality, this just wasn't the story for it, and it could never capture the enormity of such discussions. But at the same time I found it objectionable to brush it aside by saying it's common within the magical community or to include mpreg to negate the common criticisms by the procreation camp. (Who knows, I'd do mpreg for another fic in the far future.)  
> The other difficult part being what exactly Harry and Sirius' relationship would be like given that both his parents are alive and he doesn't have to cling so hard to his godfather. I honestly don't think Sirius would be someone too enlightened but certainly his proclivities in my version might enable him to engage with these topics a little more deeply. And Lily is likely to be a good mother but then again this by no means elevates her to a professional capacity in doling out the advice Harry would need. In the end I settled on letting Sirius talk to Harry about the topic in a more Sirius Black-style, but keep it within (hopefully) expected character boundaries while still giving some form of address to the discussion of social pressures around sexuality.


	9. Lesson Nine: When Entering the Unknown, Be Prepared for the Worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy and healthy new year every one! I wanted to post this on the 31st which is Tom/Voldy's bday but decided to take one more day to make a few minor edits. (This doesn't mean it will be mistake-free though!) The chappie is a bit longer than the last one, hope you enjoy it!

> Dearest Sev,
> 
> How have you been? I hope your investigations of the monsters in the Forbidden Forest have been going well. Any updates on that front? Do stay safe.
> 
> From my side, I’ve heard some rather unexpected news from Sirius a few weeks back. Apparently, my dear son has supposedly fallen in love with his own guardian, Tom Riddle. He fire-called to get some advice and I missed the call since I was getting Remus from St. Mungos. 
> 
> I had some sense that my boy might have a preference towards men when I observed him with Amos Diggory’s son, but I hadn’t expected Harry to like someone about twice his age. Provided that Harry’s estimation is accurate – we know how well some have managed to delay the ageing process these days (and yes I’m definitely talking about Rosmerta’s new facelift). 
> 
> Sev, I’m afraid. I know every parent worries about their kids at this milestone of sorts but I’m not too paranoid, am I? The age gap isn’t the biggest worry, it’s just that this might lead to an imbalance of power in the relationship. Perhaps my fears will be allayed once I’ve met the man. 
> 
> I hope I won’t become an overbearing mother. I wish to ask you a favour, Sev. What do you think of Tom Riddle? You’ve always made astute observations. I trust your opinion on this and would also like to know if Harry is doing alright with confronting these new feelings of his. He might feel overwhelmed and too embarrassed to ask for guidance. 
> 
> Love,  
>  Lily

_____________________________________________________________________

> Dear Lily,
> 
> I’m afraid I’ve just missed the two of them. They have left on their novice quests assignments that take place around this time of the year. If they have taken only one quest they should be back soon. Unfortunately, I have simply been too busy to check in on Harry, with all the invasions in the forest. I have been away from my teaching duties for some time. Mark my words Lily, we will be seeing dark times ahead. In any case, Harry is currently a trainee of Filius and he should be receiving good guidance in general. 
> 
> As you know, the miasma situation within the Forbidden Forest is getting out of hand. We are currently working out a solution with the centaurs but it does not look to be improving much. I’m wary that if this continues, the area near the forest will need to be sectioned off so no students wander too close. A lot of questers have been roped in to look at the area so I am able to take a break. 
> 
> In any case, I am back at school and once Harry and his guardian returns, I will have a check-in with your son to see how he is doing. I will also take the opportunity to look up on this guardian of his. Besides, Harry’s 18 now, a full-fledged adult in our world if anything. I hardly think twice Harry’s age is an issue, given the length of our lifespans. I’d say medical advances has been nothing short of miraculous. What’s a – dare I say it – twenty years difference if we live for centuries? Of course, I may be too liberal about this, I’ll grant you that.
> 
> And dearest Lily, I can see very clearly what you are hinting at with that section on ‘guidance’. I will say here, now and forever more, that I absolutely reject any request for me to give him _‘the talk’_ in accordance to his present inclinations. Don’t even try, Lily. 
> 
> Don’t. Even. Try.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Severus 
> 
> p.s. Who is Rosmerta’s healer? I have a new scar on my face that I may want to remove.

_____________________________________________________________________

The grass crunched under their feet as the frost of November dusted the green blades of the Scottish Highlands. Harry trudged up the slope, feeling a little weary from the long day of hiking.

He looked over at Tom to find his guardian appearing just as handsome and unflustered as ever. Harry took his time to enjoy the enchanting image of the dark-haired man regally making large strides which only served to enhance the long elegant lines of his legs against the backdrop of wild and untamed peaks of the mountains. The summoner was so engrossed in the artful view that he very nearly tripped. 

“Merlin!” he gasped as he wheeled his arms about to regain his balance.

Tom sauntered back down the grassy slope. “That was a narrow escape, Harry.” Tom chuckled, gesturing in front of Harry’s feet. He smirked knowingly at Harry, as if he knew just what caused the young man to trip.

The green-eyed summoner glanced down and staggered a few steps back. What had camouflaged so well with the surroundings was a large grey lump reaching to Harry’s shin. Wyvern excrement. 

“We’re near.” Harry breathed out. He crouched down to examine the fecal matter. It looked relatively fresh, signaling that the nest of Wyverns was not too far away. He collected some of the excrement into a can and placed it into his supplies box. Wyvern dung wasn’t valuable but it was a common enough potion ingredient and fresh ones were harder to come by. He wrinkled his nose at the grey lump – it would have been unbearable to smell in summer and he was thankful they undertook this quest in November.

Instead of the customary singular quest, they had picked two quests from the Questing Guild at Tom’s behest. Harry argued for taking a novice level or level E quest, but his guardian promptly took the reins and signed them up for two level D quests. “You’ll gain more experience,” Tom had justified. The first required them to retrieve a Wyvern egg intact, and the second required them to brew a potion that required some uncommon herb ingredients which grew only in a specific area in Scotland.

Harry knew that the first quest was classified with a higher difficulty quest level because brooding mother Wyverns were expected to be aggressive. The second was likely to be time-consuming but less dangerous. 

Despite the potentially perilous situation, Harry personally anticipated this being a more enjoyable quest than the second because there was nothing more monotonous than picking herbs in the cold November winds.

“We should set up camp soon, then.” Tom suggested. “It’s nearing evening and it would not be ideal to approach the nest when it’s dark.”

Harry nodded his agreement and followed Tom’s lead towards a smaller outcropping of rock that decently hid the tent they proceeded to erect. 

_Great Merlin's wrinkled balls_ , Harry thought. While he had allowed Tom to prepare the tents and equipment (“I have an associate who will provide one of the highest quality” Tom had said), he certainly hadn’t expected such a luxurious tent. 

It was of course, magically expanded within, but he was taken aback by the level of extravagance of the interior that even came with a fully equipped kitchen and classic island counters. There were two bedrooms with a huge four-poster bed in each and a walk-in closet. A walk-in closet! As if Harry had enough clothes to fill even a tenth of that space!

The walls of the tent were made of some sort of expensive brocade drapes and though Harry did not have enough refined tastes to recognise all the bits and bobs that filled the tent, he could tell the furniture was terribly costly.

Tom obviously had a lot of money. 

And he was not afraid to spend it.

Harry made a beeline for the kitchen, running his hands along the polished surfaces, and opening the oven and drawers while making little sounds of delight. 

Tom grinned as he watched his summoner position himself in situ. 

“Like it?” he asked, “I had it specially made for you. Fully equipped, state-of-the-art kitchen. You can make anything you want when we go on our quests from now on.”

Harry spun around and beamed at the man. “It’s perfect!” he gushed. “I’ve never had such an extensive supply before.”

Tom slipped into one of the chairs around the island counter. “I don’t believe this has come up before, but I’m curious as to the reasons for your evident interest in cooking, Harry?”

“Mm... I started cooking from quite a young age,” Harry mused, “in part because as an only child being coddled by four adults, it was the first thing I could do that made me feel more confident about myself. That I could be independent, you know?”

Tom hummed in response.

“But it didn’t become such a major interest and hobby until much later. I think a good part of it was me wanting to separate myself from my dad. It was so difficult trying to live in his shadow. Everyone was always telling me how much I looked like him, how much I _sound_ like him. I was always ‘James’ son’, or ‘Lily’s son’, or ‘the kid from the illustrious Potter family. And I wanted to be Harry… just _Harry_. I was even told that I had inherited my Seeker skills because of my dad. I just wanted to be my own person. So I picked up cooking properly – something my dad was an absolute failure at.” Harry chortled.

“I’m surprised you don’t hate Quidditch then.”

“Heeey! I don’t have that much of a complex, you know.” Harry said wryly. 

“Of course, I'll fully admit that back then I was such a fan of my own dad’s Quidditch skills, I even tried to keep slim and compact so that I would be better at playing seeker. I am undoubtedly, sorely regretting that now.” Harry gestured resignedly to his smaller stature. 

“And not that I stopped loving Quidditch. I'd _never_! But it just wasn’t the only thing consuming my life anymore. Afterwards, I just got really into the culinary arts and it is now as much a matter of pride as Quidditch is for me. Besides, cooking is a survival skill, it makes sense to have ample practice.”

Harry winked and turned back to the kitchen, rummaging through the equipment before he found an apron in one of the lower drawers. He whipped it out while his back was turned to Tom. 

He took a few seconds to process the print. Emblazoned on the apron were the words ‘Tasty!’ and a thumbs-up fist with the curled fingers placed strategically at the crotch area. He didn’t know if Tom provided a vulgar apron in order to get a reaction out of Harry (which the man arguably seemed to enjoy), or whether the apron really belonged to Tom. If the latter, well…

Harry hastily tucked the apron back into the drawer.

After a minute of Harry pulling out some pots and pans, Tom leaned in and gestured for him to take out the chilled ingredients from the iced box under the sink. 

“Do you cook?” the raven-haired young man asked.

“Not so much.” Tom tilted his head, considering Harry for a long moment. 

Something in the air shifted then and Harry knew Tom must have come to some unspoken decision. His guardian stood up and walked over to Harry. 

“It’s almost time for dinner anyway, how about I break the kitchen in just this once?”

“You mean, you’ll cook tonight?!” Harry gasped in surprise. He knew instinctively that this was a rare treat. His gut told him that few people in this world would ever have the opportunity to eat a Tom-cooked meal. He also thought that he would need to prepare himself for an unsatisfying dinner because Tom certainly looked like he had been served by others all his life.

“Yes, take it as a return for all the past meals and that chip butty of yours.” Tom smirked.

Harry grinned. Whether the meal turned out delicious or vomit-inducing, he was simply too touched that Tom would be bothered to lift a finger in the kitchen to complain about anything.

His assumptions were quickly disproved.

As Harry watched Tom in the kitchen, he knew the man was in his element. Usually if Harry saw another master in the kitchen, he would be busy taking notes and learning how to improve his skills.

However, he was at this point trying his best not to drool at the sight Tom made; the broad set of his shoulders, elegant line of his spine, his sleeves neatly rolled up to expose his forearms, and the way his neat white shirt was tucked into his dark green slacks, accentuating his slim waist.

The scene was just awfully _domestic_ and Harry _wanted_. He wanted so badly. If he could continue to have this, a simple and happy life with Tom…

During their training sessions he would inadvertently be distracted by how the sun shone on Tom’s hair, revealing it to be a rich, dark brown, or the curve of his jaw, the straight line of his nose… He enjoyed the soft, and composed voice of Tom’s – one that he thought sounded gentle when Tom spoke to Harry. The coolness of his fingers when he sometimes reached out to brush Harry’s hair… 

He wondered if this escalation of his interest in Tom was in part due to his having finally accepted where his inclinations lay. Somehow, the shackles were off – not that he hadn’t been prying away at them for some time already – but now he was no longer swimming in denial. He liked Tom. He liked Tom so very _very much_. He felt an indescribable warmth coiling in him as he watched the man. 

Tom was baking some halibut fillets and the fragrance was incredible. Another pan was simmering with the sauce and Harry leaned in with a spoon to snatch a taste. 

“Shoo!” Tom laughed as he lightly rapped Harry’s head with his wooden spatula. The emerald-eyed summoner chortled as he ducked and skipped out of reach. 

“This is really good though!” Harry beamed as he licked the spoon clean.

“Be patient dear, it’s almost ready.” Tom chided, looking at the young man indulgently. 

Eventually the man turned around to lay two plates of artfully cooked food on the kitchen island surface.

“Halibut fillet pan-seared and baked with beurre blanc wine and shallot reduction sauce.” Tom announced with a smug little grin.

“Oh great Godric!” Harry moaned as he took his first bite. “This is sooo delicious! How did you get so good at cooking!”

“I’ve had… a lot of time to pursue various interests.” Tom replied vaguely.

“If you’re this amazing, you should cook more, instead of asking me to.” Harry told him with an accusatory sidelong glance. 

“Besides, I don’t enjoy it.” Tom continued. Harry gave Tom a look so aghast that anyone would have thought him personally attacked.

Tom laughed and leaned in to wipe off a bit of sauce from the corner of Harry’s mouth. He popped his finger into his mouth and sucked on it. 

Harry flushed red and ducked his head in embarrassment. When he lifted his head and peered shyly through his lashes, he was stunned by the look he caught on Tom’s face. It was dark, possessive and hungry. 

On impulse, Harry surged forward and pressed his lips to his guardian’s.

The dark brunet made a small noise of surprise before returning the kiss hungrily, making Harry gasp in pleasure. Tom’s hand splayed on the small of Harry’s back, pulling him close while the other hand gripped tightly, almost painfully in his unruly hair as the kiss deepened. Harry felt as if he was being devoured but he showed no less passion as their tongues moved in a sensual dance. 

They finally broke apart to take a breath and Harry was panting hard. He looked over at Tom, whose usually impeccable hair was slightly mussed and lips were clearly kiss swollen. Staring into those deep, black eyes, Harry thought he almost saw a glint of red. The warmth coiling in him grew even hotter and tighter, and Harry felt he was alternatively floating and yet thrumming with so much energy and need that he would burst. 

“I love you!” He blurted. He could feel the heat of embarrassment rising up his neck and colouring his cheeks red. He glanced up at Tom, then froze from the sight.

Tom had stilled, his face blank. Then slowly, the dark-haired man stepped away. Harry’s feelings of hope and happiness plummeted rapidly.

“What did you say?”

“Tom?”

_“What did you say, Harry?”_

“I… I said… I-I love you…” Harry replied hesitantly. He felt an ice lodge painfully in his gut.

Tom’s expression had closed off then, his body held tense and his eyes cold.

Harry didn’t understand. Had he… had he been understanding something wrongly? He had thought Tom might reciprocate his feelings in some form, or at the very least, that they were mutually attracted to one another.

“Tom – ” he tried again, reaching his hand out. 

The man however, leaned further away, then abruptly turned and left the tent.

Shocked, Harry stood still for a moment before he pushed his limbs into motion, checking that his wand was in his pocket and ran out of the tent.

“Tom!” he shouted into dark frantically. The shadows of the night had fallen around him. He turned about wildly, searching for some sign of his guardian but there was none. 

“TOM!!!” he called again, tears starting to flow freely down his cheeks. His heart was breaking, he had never felt such a _physical_ ache before but as he clutched at his chest, he pushed himself to continue searching for Tom. Some part of Harry was aware that screaming out in the wild at night was terribly dangerous but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

But after an hour of searching in the cold with nothing on but his pajamas and slippers, Harry acknowledged that Tom might actually have apparated away. He trudged back into the tent, its immense size even more pronounced in the absence of his guardian. 

By the time he returned, Harry was shivering badly and his toes were turning blue from the cold, but he hardly paid his state any attention as he curled up in his cruelly, mockingly large bed, tucked himself into the warm blankets and heaved great, wracking sobs into his pillow.

_____________________________________________________________________

When the sun rose, Harry had yet to catch a wink of sleep, and his eyes were swollen red from crying through the night.

Tom had yet to return.

Harry buried his face further into the pillow, curling further into a ball and unwilling to get out of bed. A small, bitter laugh escaped from his hoarse throat. 

How could he have been so wrong about everything? He’d thought that Tom liked him as well. That Tom and him could have been… 

More tears rolled down his already crusty, tear-stained face. He would not soon forget the cold expression on Tom’s face.

As he squirmed around in the bed, his wand rolled off the blankets and clattered onto the wooden paneled floor. Harry sighed and felt so drained that for one moment thought he would rather leave his wand where it lay. But memories of Uncle Alastor bellowing “Constant Vigilance!” when he was younger assaulted his mind until he dragged himself out of the warm cocoon of blankets to retrieve his wand. 

_It’s almost Pavlovian by now_ , Harry thought miserably. 

But he was grateful nevertheless, for the lessons Uncle Alastor taught him. Not that the grizzled and gruff man didn’t have his own issues. His mantra, “In a real battle, there’s no good or bad, only alive or dead.” said a lot about the veteran’s experiences.

As he left the bedroom with a noticeable slump in the set of his shoulders, he noticed the dishes on the kitchen island, still left over from the night before. Harry sighed and walked closer, morosely fingering the rim of his plate. 

It had been such a good dinner. Just why had he gone and ruined it? 

Harry gathered the plates and began to wash them manually in the sink. He wanted something to do with his hands, without magic, anything to take his mind off the recent disaster. But the emotional turmoil refused to stop, mayhem abound in his headspace. 

Harry struggled to understand exactly what he did wrong, but he figured he had perhaps been too forward. He feared that by confessing his feelings to Tom (too early, too much?) he might have frightened his guardian away. 

_Didn’t even take for my big reveal of my miasma secret and I’ve already pushed him away,_ Harry mused self-deprecatingly.

“ _Tempus_ ” he whispered weakly once the dishes were dried and stored away.

It was 7.40 a.m., a mere twenty minutes away from the time he and Tom had originally plan to infiltrate the Wyverns’ nest. It was imperative to follow the schedule for when Wyverns would leave their nest to hunt for food, leaving only the brooding mother to guard her eggs.

There could be no delay and the realisation was slowly sinking in – if Tom never returned, Harry would have to do this all alone.

 _He wouldn’t try to break our summoning contract, would he?_ Harry thought, devastated. He wasn’t ready to think about the possibility.

Pushing back the feelings of sadness and loneliness threatening to overwhelm him, the summoner drew on his courage and strode off to gather his equipment pack for the quest ahead.

***

An hour later and Harry found himself wedged between two rocky surfaces, peering into the nesting grounds of the particular group of Wyverns Tom and he had planned to target. 

He espied a large molted grey-green lump, curled around a clutch of eggs, situated high above where he stood. 

The brooding mother.

The Wyverns’ grounds was shaped almost like an open Quidditch stadium, with an entrance above where the Wyverns would usually circle about as they watched for unsuspecting prey or unwanted invaders. The area was adorned with rocky ledges, where the Wyverns tended to perch or crawl along. There were only a few tiny entrances from the ground level; most gaps stoppered up with large rocks. Harry had taken more time than he expected to find an entrance between the rocks – a tiny hole in the defense structure of the territory.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry carefully made his way across towards a higher ledge where he employed a slight levitation spell on his feet to carry him up the ledge before canceling the spell. He knew that Wyverns weren’t as sensitive towards magic usage as other magical creatures but brooding mothers were always a little more alert. 

In any case, if he could avoid a head-on fight, he would. He didn’t believe in unprovoked attacks. Without a mother, the Wyvern eggs would die as well. Harry hated the notion that some questers delighted in torturing and killing magical creatures even when it was unnecessary to their quests. There was little regulation or sanctions against such actions and it greatly reduced his respect towards the profession.

Harry painstakingly climbed the ledge, levitating himself to the next one, and the next, inching his way slowly when the stones were loose and crab walking when it got too narrow. 

He eventually made his way up to a ledge as near to the brooding mother as he dared and proceeded to tuck himself behind a rock out of sight of the Wyvern. She had grown more restless, swinging her tail about as the morning went on, eager for food. Harry had an awful feeling that it signaled the nearing of meal time. Which meant the other Wyverns could be returning at any moment.

Harry cursed his lack of resourcefulness but he was supposed to have this properly planned with Tom the night before, with a full strategy ready when they struck out in the morning. Thinking about Tom made his heart ache again and he shook the thoughts away quickly.

Digging into his pack, Harry pulled out some white chalk and drew a circle on the rock he hid behind. He rapidly filled in the runes for a summoning circle to restraint the beast near him. He included the runes for chains, enlargement, sleeping, non-aggressiveness, reduced speed, and reduced strength among others. 

He only had one chance to get this right. Once he enlarged and duplicated the circle across to where the Wyvern lay with her eggs, it would alert her and if he had the estimation wrong, if the circle didn’t fit perfectly around her… 

Harry bit his lips and tapped the original circle with his wand while casting the spell for duplication. 

The circle shone bright on the rock and a second circle appeared as an overlay.

The Wyvern snapped to attention and lifted her head.

Harry stepped out from behind the rock and swung the circle towards the Wyvern, throwing his arm out in a wide arc. Harry’s heart beat a rapid staccato as the mother spread her wings.

As the circle landed at the feet of the beast, it flared bright and Harry quickly cast the expansion spell. The circle activated and large metal chains formed from the base and clasped around the Wyvern, forcing her spread wings to furl back tightly to her body.

There was a brief moment where she struggled and Harry readied himself for a fight before her head finally drooped and she tucked head back to her chest and began to doze.

Harry fell back against the rocky wall and slumped down on the ledge, breathing heavily. 

“It worked,” he panted out.

“ _It worked!_ ” he said, a little louder this time. And then he was bursting into laughter, clutching his side hysterically.

Between the emotional rollercoaster before and the huge adrenaline rush presently, Harry wasn’t sure he was quite right in the head.

He stood back up, brushing his hands off his pants and levitated himself across to the Wyvern and her nest. The summoner slowly reached his left hand out towards the clutch of eggs, right hand at the ready to cast a shield spell should the Wyvern wake.

When she continued sleeping, Harry lightly tapped each egg with his wand, and grinned when he found one unfertilised. He carefully extracted it from the nest and hugging it to his chest, levitated himself back onto the ledge, where his equipment pack lay open. 

The green-eyed young man crowed with joy once the egg was safely shrunk and stored in a featherlight pouch. 

He had done it. He had completed the quest! All alone! 

Despite his successes at Hogwarts fighting against creatures and especially dark magical creatures, the battles had all occurred in tightly controlled environments. A field test such as this was a rarity.

***

Harry grabbed his pack and hoisted it onto his shoulder, before levitating himself to the ground level again. He would release the Wyvern from the summoning circle right before leaving the grounds, expect he couldn’t quite remember where the tiny entrance he had found previously was located. 

_Which is why Tom says you should always plan properly_ , Harry reprimanded himself. His spirits plummeted once again as he thought about the man.

As he searched about the rocks, he heard a dull noise. 

Like a thud of some sort.

_Thud._

And there it was again.

_Thud._

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The sounds were getting louder and suddenly they were so loud that they were unmistakable. 

Harry felt a frisson of fear shoot up his spine.

Either this was a very large flock of Wyverns returning or…

He raised his head to look at the oval piece of sky where the rocky edges of the Wyvern grounds framed it. Three smaller shaped shadows blotted the sky and two larger ones, almost twice the size with immense wingspans.

“Dragons…” He whispered in disbelief.

The shock froze him for a few precious seconds before Harry was frantically scrambling to hide behind a larger rock. 

Almost immediately after, he heard the enraged shrieks of the Wyverns as they spotted the summoning circle surrounding the mother Wyvern.

Harry cursed, desperately trying to keep from panicking further.

It was too late anyway, he couldn’t cancel the summoning circle now without drawing attention to himself.

The air pressure grew suffocating from the beat of five pairs of wings before the Dragons and Wyverns landed heavily and Harry’s knees jarred from the impact. The Wyverns quickly tended to their companion and the clutch of eggs, while the dragons swiveled around as they tried to sense whether the intruder was still present. 

Whether Harry was still present.

Harry wedged himself as deeply as he could into the gap between two rocks.

Dragons. Two Welsh Greens. Harry clenched his fists, anxiety rising rapidly. He could not believe it. Dragons never, never mixed with Wyverns. Not unless they wanted to eat them. Suddenly, Hermione’s observations and warnings about unusual Dragon behaviour did not seem so far-fetched anymore. 

_This is no longer a level D quest. More like a level B for a team of summoners and guardians. Definitely not for a lone summoner like me._ Harry cringed, mind racing a mile a minute, but his thoughts also going in utterly random directions. 

Welsh Greens weren’t as physically powerful as Draco’s Hebridean Black but they made up for it with increased magic sensitivity. 

Which was proving to be very unfortunate for Harry, as the two Dragons sniffed the air and inched their way closer and closer to his hiding place.

Harry desperately tried to stay calm. He had no idea what omnipresent being he had pissed off, for him to be caught in an unbelievably dangerous situation, all alone. By the looks of it, he wouldn’t have leisurely time to find the small ground level entrance gap, and the rocks were too thick for him to blast his way out. His best bet was out from the top, which meant taking to the skies. 

Harry pried open his pack as quietly as he could and sagged in relief when he realised that he had indeed packed his Lightningbolt. He would have to unshrink his broom and fly off once he was close enough to the top. 

But that was the biggest challenge. One he wasn’t sure he could overcome. It was a long way up to the top from where he was. He needed a distraction.

Digging his white chalk out of his pocket, he drew another circle on loose rock. The lines came out squiggly and messy. His hand was trembling from the nerves and he took a moment to steady it. Writing the wrong runes would spell his death. Harry rubbed off the chalk circle to draw another one and winced when he scrapped his palm.

From where he hid, he could hear the clacking and scratching sounds of the Dragons’ talons as they continued to search and scent. 

He wrote the runes carefully into the circle. It was a simple one with just three runes, to summon a stone golem. Simple but exhausting. The stone golem would be drawing energy directly from its summoner and Harry knew he could not sustain it for long against two Dragons and three Wyverns. He thanked his lucky stars that his freaky magic core had doubled in size recently, but it would be just his luck for his reserves to run out and break the other circle he was still maintaining around the mother Wyvern.

By now, one of the Dragons had gotten too close for comfort and was sniffing harshly in quick bursts. Harry feared that it could smell the blood from his scrapped palm at this distance. Wasting no time, Harry activated the circle and threw the loose rock as high into the air as he could. It would serve as the heart of the stone golem. The other stones and rocks surrounding him began to rumble, hovering in the air as they gathered into larger and larger groups of rocks. 

Dragons and Wyverns alike roared furiously as a massive stone golem continued to form – the area trembling and shaking as more rocks were dislodged and magnetised towards the core of the stone golem. 

Harry took the opportunity to run along the rocky walls of the Wyvern grounds until he was further from the stone golem, hoping that the flying rocks would provide him enough distraction and cover. 

The Dragons and two of the Wyverns took flight and became to viciously attack the stone golem, leaving one Wyvern to guard the brooding mother still stuck in her induced sleep. 

Harry could feel his magic draining as the stone golem was made to withstand the combined attack of the four beasts. The forceful pummels and blasts of fire by the Dragons vibrated throughout the grounds.

The summoner quickly levitated himself from ledge to ledge, hoping his magic would not run out before he reached the top. Small pieces of the stone golem were being dislodged in the fight, flying out as debris which cut and slice Harry as he made his way upwards.

He could see one of the Dragons had sustained an injury to one of its wings, flying unbalanced but continuing its battering onslaughts on the stone golem. Despite the raw power of the stone golem summon, it was unable to deal any particularly major injuries on the Dragons, the magical race proving its imperviousness to most physical damages.

With gritted teeth, Harry stopped levitating once his magical reserves threatened to deplete too quickly. He began to use his arms and physical strength to lift himself up. His muscles hurt from the strain, and he scrapped his fingers bloody along the jagged edges of the multitude of rocks.

Midway up the walls and ledges and he began to visibly tire and slow down. His breaths came out in heavy pants and sweat dripped down his face. 

As he reached for a wider ledge above, a particularly large rock flew across from where it had been blasted apart off the golem and smashed into Harry’s left hand. 

He cried out in shock and pain as the bones in his hand shattered from the impact. He threw his left arm across the ledge and scrambled for purchase with his other hand as he tried to lift himself up, rocks dislodging about him as he kicked at the wall. 

Harry had just managed to pull himself up onto the ledge when he was bodily slammed into the wall. His equipment pack reduced some of the impact of the blow, but not enough. His breath was knocked out of him and he fell back on the ledge, avoiding a fall too high to survive. He could feel that a couple of ribs had cracked and he swiveled from his position, looking up to see sharp claws aiming for his face. 

The other Wyvern!

Quidditch seeker reflexes allowed him to dodge most of them but one claw had caught on his forehead and brutally sliced it open. Harry cried out and stumbled back. The wound on his head burning and blood splashed down the side of his face and obscuring his vision.

The Wyvern crouched upon the ledge, and opened its maw wide to shriek viciously. Its razor sharp teeth snapped at Harry. He dodged again, feeling even dizzier when his stomach gave another lurch. In a last-ditch effort, Harry pointed his wand wildly and screamed the conjunctivitis curse, the force behind the spell so great that the Wyvern was blasted off the ledge.

Harry struggled to keep standing, clinging to the rocky wall. But it was getting increasingly difficult with the blood loss. He swayed precariously. His forehead wound felt like it was on fire and his vision began to swim. He belatedly remembered that male Wyverns had poison in their claws.

Looking to his right, Harry vaguely registered his stone golem crumbling, unable to sustain its form and the Dragons and Wyverns turning their attention and flying towards him. 

“Tom…” he called out weakly. 

He really wished his guardian were here with him. At least he would not die alone. Tears flowed down his face, intermingling with the blood. 

Harry staggered and collapsed.

He was feeling light-headed now, the pain a distant throbbing.

Just as Harry blacked out, he felt strong and familiar arms wrap around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I tried to reduce the angst. Don't worry, this is not a story with many unhappy/angsty moments. It's supposed to be a unabashedly non-serious, silly and lighthearted fic, but still, minor obstacles are unavoidable! 
> 
> For any interested, what Tom cooked is a combination of [pan-seared halibut fillets](https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1013187-pan-seared-marinated-halibut-fillets) and [beurre blanc sauce](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/145730/basic-beurre-blanc/?internalSource=staff%20pick&referringId=1976&referringContentType=recipe%20hub).


	10. Lesson Ten: You Fear That Which You Must Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mega-sized chappie because I reread it, cringed from the overly angsty bit, edited it out and combined two chapters together. Meaning, it's less verbose which is fine for me, and I'm certain all of you can imagine the scenes without that many descriptors. It also means this chapter won't end on a cliffhanger hehehe.  
> Also, an extra **Breadcrumbs on Severus visiting a healer**! It has some additional background to Snape's character which I know some of you have been requesting for. It's found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11959611/chapters/30545709), doesn't have to be read in any particular order to this chapter.  
>  Again, pardon any spelling or writing mistakes, and feel free to let me know if it's really glaring.  
> Enjoy!  
> p.s. I won't be updating again until February because life is set to throw shit at me over the next two weeks.

The minute he stepped out of the tent, Tom apparated away.

The wards of the Demon kingdom groaned as it shifted to allow his violent entry. Tom arrived back in his private ritual room, stalking off angrily to where a gargantuan underground lake of thick miasma was swirling in a natural stone formation. The most famous and mysterious underground miasmic lake of the Demon kingdom. 

He wrenched out his emerald and waved it at the vast pool of miasma.

“What. Have. You. Done.” He gritted out.

The miasma leaped up at his presence, questing over his robes.

“Stop. It. Now. You bastard! Take it away!”

Tendrils of miasma spun around eagerly, mockingly, before they subsided and floated about in an uncaring, lazy manner. 

Tom grasped his emerald, concentrating on the flow of miasma within his core. Whipping out his wand in a loose but expert grip, he burned a ritual circle around him, ensuring that he stood in the exact centre. With a practiced hand, he drew a series of esoteric and complex runes. Once completed, he activated the circle and watched the runes shine a brilliant gold. 

As some of the runes grew brighter and brighter, others grew dull and black. Eventually, all faded back into the charred stone. 

Suspicions confirmed, Tom hurled the emerald into the miasma lake in a rage, watching it skid across and settle at the bottom of the immense rock basin.

The man cried out in frustration as he pulled at his hair wildly, pacing about the room agitatedly. He spun around blasting craters about his room, making the area quake dangerously. It was only until a large crack appeared in the stone wall, and one side of the wall came crashing down, that Tom, drained of energy, stopped his tirade. He slumped in a corner in the midst of the debris. 

Joy, he knew. When his enemies laid at his feet.

Anger, an old friend. For he would not be denied what he desired.

Fear, perhaps. Before he attained immortality.

But this… all of these feelings within him; happiness, fear, anger, despair, surprise, disgust, euphoria, horror, apprehension, glee. All swirling madly within him. Bursting at the seams.

Nothing made sense. It didn’t _make sense_!!!

He gave another furious cry of equal parts confusion and frustration.

This newfound emotions in his body, all because Harry had used those three words against him.

The runes had spoken loud and clear. Memories surfaced of the multitude of times he experimented extensively with the miasma, even to his own body. Somehow or other, he must have grown capable of… Tom glared at the pool of miasma where the emerald lay seemingly innocuous. 

This wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t begin to right this wrong by sitting here in justified fury. He needed to think.

Tom stood abruptly and apparated. 

***

An hour later saw the man seated upon a flat rock and overlooking his favourite lake, Llyn Ogwen. For him, this was where he had faced the most major turning point in his life.

Harry’s declarations of _love_ were still ringing in his head.

He _still_ didn’t know what to make of it. When he first heard the words, his heart gave a little jump, and shortly after, the euphoria was washed away by a dark, raging sea of cold fire. 

Love.

How he hated that word. Not once in his long years had he stopped being angry with ‘love’; resenting the notion of love. 

Love! 

The singular, most irrational thing that he would have wiped out of this world if he could! No one had dared speak the word to him for millennia. 

Love is weakness.

As so aptly put by one of the most famous mind wizards in history, Freud, “ _we are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love_ ”. Wise words that came even before the golden age of summoners. 

His mother should have thought about that before she foolishly used love potions on his pathetic muggle father. The height of folly. Love itself was to be avoided, and yet still there were those utterly hopeless creatures out there who sought to create false, weak imitations of this abominable concept. He would forever be ashamed of his mother.

And at this moment, he could not be more ashamed of himself. For Tom Marvolo Riddle, previously a ruthless Dark Lord, and now the supreme Demon Overlord Voldemort for many eons, would never deceive himself.

And thus he was forced to accept that for one singular moment, he had been undeniably, unspeakably happy when he heard the words ‘I love you’ spoken from Harry’s lips. 

Tom ran of course, too fearful of what this particular brand of happiness really meant. Once he had left Harry’s side, he was besieged by loss and emptiness. All his life there had been a gnawing bottomless pit of dark emptiness in his very being. He was no stranger to it. He had always filled it with anger.

What he had not accounted for during his time with Harry, was a slow but sure awakening that lit up that pit inside of him. So slowly and insidiously that he never realised the web he had been stuck in until it was too late. Now the return of that emptiness felt too much to bear.

He could break their contract, or stop the young man from loving him, or use his innocent love as a tool. Tom certainly had the means to do so, especially with the advantages provided by Harry’s screwed up summoning ritual. But none of these options sat well with him. Just the thought of Harry’s shocked, devastated face as he left the tent was enough to make him clench his jaw in agitation. 

When did he began to love this young man? When did Harry stop becoming just the boy whose magical affinity matched his, just the boy who could bake good bread? When did he stop being just someone powerful who could be used to solve the miasmic issues, just a toy who he could play with, just a distraction for his boredom?

Was this what others meant by ‘falling in love’? Falling into a pit you never noticed, until it was too late…

And oh did he berate himself harshly for falling into this entrapment! There were two weaknesses he sought hard to divest himself from – mortality and love. The former he worked to achieve. The latter, he thought himself free of, only for it to rear its ugly head thousands of years later. Just 5000 years and he had grown so _weak_.

“You must be laughing at me now, Morgana.” Tom said to the watery surface, a deep black where the silver moonlight did not reach. 

“I still remember. What you said then. You told me then that I would one day understand your pain. That given time, the miasma would heal me, give me what I should have had from birth. One day, I too would learn to know love. Oh, except, what the miasma did is not healing, but betrayal of the highest order! After all I’ve done…”

He traced his wand across the surface of Llyn Ogwen, The miasma rose across the entire lake, dancing about him, celebrating his existence. Curling around him excitedly. Calling out and luring him to drown himself in the liquid fathoms of the lake. 

“It was here you sank, this very spot. And your last words… that I would know love, yet neither know how to give nor receive, and you would laugh at me from the depths of your watery grave.”

The night was immeasurably cold, the November chill like a wraith over the rolling hills and surrounding mountains. It could not compare to cold ice in his veins. He continued to watch the miasma for longer, knowing its dangers, but reluctant to part with its presence. Tom let out a deep breath he had been holding and drew his wand back to his side, allowing the miasma to hover before fading back below and into the water.

A single tear fell from his eye as he looked back on his 5000 long years. Though he would deny that such weakness was ever shown.

In that time, he had rent the world asunder, reshaped and reforged it with his very own hands. In a fit of pique, he created the Demon kingdom, established himself as the Demon Overlord, and chartered new paths through the world. Still he lived and so he grew bored with his lone empire, and chose to aid the various magical races in creating their own sovereignty. He played all people and creatures like many strung up puppets. Afterwards he turned his mind to learning all things magical, all things eldritch and even all things mundane. There would never be one existence as gifted and accomplished as his. None to rival him. He had accomplished all he desired and more. So much more. 

Until time seemed to stall and everything he did gave him no real joy. Over the past millennia, his life had grown dull and dim; his glorious days so far behind him, like the faded sepia photos at the bottom of a box full of crumbling memories. 

For he had never truly contemplated immortality in its entirety. He had thought then, in his folly, that nothing would be more coveted than the ability to defeat Death itself. He hadn’t regretted it – he would never. Death was still very much to be avoided. However there was, since he could remember, something missing. Something so amorphous that he was never able to figure it out. It wasn’t until much later that he realised immortality alone was not enough. 

What else would lie in the dark unknown as he forged forward? Tom had begun in recent years, to entertain the notion of fear as he looked towards his future, as he looked ahead and saw an endless void staring back at him. So empty. Threatening to swallow him whole. All that he had valued he started to question, all that he thought unworthy of his concern now brought to the forefront of his mind.

Was it this then? Love? Was this what he had been missing? Was this what would make his eternity meaningful again? Was it alright to want love, for all that he despised it? Hated it?

Was it alright to want Harry? 

“Lord Voldemort wants what Lord Voldemort wants.” He whispered to nobody.

 

***

 

It was the break of dawn, the early rays of the sun creeping across the mountains, hills and the lake, outlining them in deep, brilliant gold, which woke Tom up from his reverie. 

He frowned. He hadn’t expected time to past this quickly, lost deep in his thoughts as he was.

He had spent the night and the wee hours of the morning contemplating. And the more he thought about it, the more certain he was. Despite a cursed birth borne of love potions, somehow, over the years, the changes the miasma had wrought in him was sufficient enough to make the ability to ‘love’ no longer an impossibility. It wasn’t too surprising once he pondered hard about it. After all, all magic found its roots in miasma, it stood to reason that it could negate the consequences of amortentia abuse as well. The real question was – why here, why now? Tom could not be sure. 

Although, he had already made up his mind. He would take and consume this love for all eternity and chain Harry to himself. Tom decided that he had best return to the tent to confront whatever horrific emotional outbursts an enchanting green-eyed young man had in store for him there. 

But first, some plans had to be changed. From his breast pocket, Tom drew out a self-inking quill, and penned instructions on parchment in his signature hand. 

“Barty.” he called out, once he had the details neatly written on a scroll of parchment.

A resounding crack filled the air and the rakish demon appeared, looking rather indecently unkempt. 

“Late night activities, Barty?” Tom asked, eyes narrowing at the sight.

Bartemius Crouch Jr. gulped. 

Tom decided to spare the man uncomfortable questions. “I’ve made some alterations to our initial plan,” he continued, handing the scroll of parchment to his Death Eater, “it will take a much longer time than I intended if training is to happen.”

“Training?” Barty asked, before he unfurled the scroll, studying the instructions in detail. Understanding lit in his eyes as he processed the information.

“You don’t look surprised.”

The elite mercenary demon looked up at his lord. “No.” he confessed, “I thought you might prefer him to survive this ordeal.”

“It won’t just be surviving. I want Harry Potter to come out of this with as little harm to his person as possible, and if I am to sacrifice your life for his, I will not hesitate.”

Barty nodded, still looking unfazed by the news. 

Tom regarded the demon with suspicion. Had been aware of Tom’s growing attachment to Harry? 

Nevertheless…

“You have your orders. Get out of my sight.”

Barty bowed deeply and left immediately.

Tom sighed, stalling for a moment. He really did not want to deal with tears and snot, thinking of a multitude of excuses to put off the confrontation. 

Tom sighed again. Eventually, he stood up and lightly brushed his robes clean before apparating back to the shared tent.

The first thing that struck him upon his return was the silence. No clinking and clanking, shuffling and scribbling sounds that always accompanied Harry’s activities in the day. 

It was deathly silent.

“Harry?”

He noted that the dishes from the night before had been cleaned and stored away.

“Harry? Are you there?”

Striding swiftly into Harry’s designated bedroom, he slammed the door open without knocking and had his suspicions proved correct. For good measure, he pulled off the ball of blankets in the middle of the four-poster to reveal an empty bed.

His foolish summoner had gone ahead to the Wyvern grounds. All alone.

At that very instant, he heard it, full of longing, distressed and helpless, but as clear as day in his head. 

_Tom…_

This time, without hesitation, he apparated away to where his magic told him Harry was. He was just in time to see his darling, stupid boy collapsing on a precarious ledge.

Tom stepped forward hastily and wrapped his arms around Harry to stop the fall. 

Blood was streaming down one side of the summoner’s face. Tom drew his wand to cast a protective sphere over them both and then quickly siphoned off the blood. A fresh well of blood immediately poured from the cut again. Peering more intently at the wound, Tom realised it had been infected with venom.

He cast spells in rapid succession, removing the venom from Harry’s wound and blood and sealed the cut on his forehead. It would scar over unfortunately, but at least the poison had been neutralised. He proceeded to heal up the major wounds he could find. 

Tom felt inexplicable rage rising in his chest as he clocked the vast number of injuries inflicted upon his boy. 

Once he was certain no life-threatening injuries were left, he gently laid his boy down to rest upon the ledge.

He stood up calmly. Too calmly. He turned to face the group of dragons and wyverns which were ferociously throwing all they could at his protective sphere. Their huge wings raising buffering winds that ruffled at Tom’s hair.

 _“Well. What have we here?”_

All the beasts reared back in varying degrees of shock. One of the dragons shot him a baleful glare and screeched angrily. _“You can speak Infremotongue?”_

 _“Ah yes, it must be rare these days.”_ Tom said, smiling malevolently at them. _“Not many Infremomouths around anymore.”_

 _“It doesn’t change anything! You can beg to us in our language all you want. We could not care less! We will kill you and the other.”_ the other dragon spoke menacingly. 

_“Kill me? You’re making me so sentimental.”_ Tom smirked, placing his palm mockingly to his heart. _“It’s been a while since anyone has dared to challenge me. Are you truly confident? I wouldn’t want to set my expectations too high.”_

The beasts roared in anger at the man’s goading, slashing hard at his protective sphere again. 

_“The fault lies with me, perhaps. I shouldn’t expect you to recognise my true form. Maybe you’d recognise this instead…”_ he continued nonchalantly and ignoring the ferocious battering noises surrounding him.

Tom placed his hands neatly at the base of his skull, and spread them methodically over his hair and face to reveal a bone-white bald head, and sinister, serpentine features. He was met with multiple roars and shrieks of fear and disbelief.

He bared his teeth in a cruel mockery of a smile.

_“Let’s begin shall we? A lesson on why you should never cross Lord Voldemort and all that is his.”_

_____________________________________________________________________

> Dear Lily,
> 
> I am sorry I had to send you this urgent letter in the wee hours of the morning, but the team has dreadful news that I am sure you would wish to be informed of posthaste. 
> 
> We received a report from a couple of our scouts on unusual miasma activity in the Scottish Highlands (see attached map for exact location). Scamander dispatched two investigators and then we had a distress signal requesting specifically for both mine and Charlie’s expertise. 
> 
> Oh Lily. It was an absolute bloodbath! There’s nothing that can quite describe it. We have two dead dragons, four dead wyverns, and three unhatched eggs destroyed. We couldn’t even make out what they were at first – there was so much blood! Pieces everywhere.
> 
> I swear Charlie was in tears. He says results show that a third party cruelly tortured before slaughtering them. He’s working hard to find any clues of the activities the dragons and wyverns may been involved in. With so many reports that the two races are engaging in unusual interactions, we now have 95% probability. There’s a definite pattern. Of course, we continue to keep our eyes peeled open for more instances. 
> 
> I’m still situated here at this very moment to work with the team for the miasma analysis. The area’s miasma is utterly stifling, preliminary results show triple the recommended toxicity levels. I’ll be sending some of the samples to you once they’ve been collected and stored in the Cat.5 containers. This much miasma in the area, it’s sure to attract the monsters. 
> 
> I’ve left the worst for last. We found the Dark Mark at the scene, you can see it in the third attached photo. Unmistakable, I’m sure. 
> 
> Scamander suggested that it could just be one of the elite Death Eaters but we’re just trying to pretend it’s not the _other_ possibility because that’s so much worse. I know the Demon Overlord hasn’t been seen or heard for decades now, but the miasma levels here are unbelievable. It would fit all other reports of his tendency to leave the Dark Mark, as a warning to his enemies. 
> 
> The team’s worried that if news leaks out, Voldemort fanaticals will follow suit and try to kill more dragons. You know as well as I do that that would be a disaster. I fear to think what would happen if the Purist faction spins this into some story justifying the subjugation of their so-called ‘inferior’ magical creatures. We can only hope that it was a personal grudge for the Demon Overlord.
> 
> Albus will be joining our next meeting to discuss the incident. He’s been hard at work preparing a lot of important data on the recent sightings, you should come and see it. Will you be able to attend as well? I await your reply.
> 
> Best regards,  
>  Alice Longbottom  
>  Deputy Head of Miasma Analysis  
>  International Association of Magical Creatures

_____________________________________________________________________

> James,
> 
> Quick letter - can you get Hedwig to help us check-in on Harry and make sure he’s alright? He’s on his novice quests now so he can’t access a transfer box. I’ve just had news from Alice that Voldemort might be Scotland. I want Harry to be extra careful.
> 
> Lily 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

Harry found himself slowly returning to awareness, opening his eyes blearily to the sight of the tent around him. 

“Nnngh” he winced, his aches becoming painfully obvious as he tried to sit up in his bed. His head was still woozy and his last memory was being sliced in the forehead – no wait it was all the dragon and wyverns coming after him – no wait it was him collapsing into the arms of – 

“… Tom!” Harry shouted, renewing his struggles to get out of bed.

He was quickly pushed back on to the bed, firmly but gently.

Harry looked up at his handsome guardian dazedly. 

“You’re here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Tom assured him softly.

“You came back.”

“Yes.”

“… You saved me.” 

“I did.”

“You left me.” Harry said, giving Tom an accusatory glare.

“I did.” The dark brunet sighed. “And we will talk about that later. But first there are important things we need to discuss. We’re on a tight schedule. And you must rest and recover. _Peacefully._ ” 

He helped to shift Harry and propped him leaning against the headboard softened by fluffy pillows.

“Fine. Later.” Harry said, eyes narrowed. At least Tom had returned… and he didn’t look upset…

Tom was right though, they had to report back at Hogwarts in three days, he couldn’t let personal issues get in the way of work. Rule number 27 of being a summoner. This was one of the things he’d learned early on at Hogwarts – summoners and guardians had to know how to manage their affairs or it could spell death for them while questing. They were taught to put differences aside and settle the issues in a safe environment, away from beasts and away from monsters.

And they had both been very unprofessional. He would push it to the back of his mind for now. Lock it in his mind vault, stash the key away, and pretend it didn’t happen. He was very good at pretending. For now. 

He could do this.

“So what happened after you found me?”

“I may have acted impulsively… when I saw how injured you were.” Tom supplied.

“Impulsive? You?” Harry snorted.

“Well I might have taken a bit of revenge… but more importantly, I managed to get us out of there.”

“How did you –” 

“You have been asleep for almost nine hours now.”

“Nine hours!?” Harry exclaimed incredulously. “How did you get us ou–”

“You needed a lot of blood replenishing potions. An anti-venom potion to flush any remnants from your blood. And anti-inflammation potion, especially for the cut on your forehead.”

Harry’s hand shot up to his forehead, where he felt a bandage wrapped around it.

“It will scar, unfortunately. Unless you wish it removed.” Tom frowned at him as Harry roughly tore off his bandage, fumbled about with his wand clutched in his bandaged fingers, and _accio_ -ed his mirror to him.

“A lightning bolt!?” he yelped. He tilted his head at the mirror, trying to get a better look at the scar. It was a very neatly shaped bolt of lightning and just slightly red from healing. “Hah! Well look at that, I failed to use my Lightningbolt to save my own arse and now I’ve got a scar to remind me of it.”

“What about your Firebolt?”

“How do you not know this? Firebolts are better for Quidditch. The Lightningbolt is designed for fieldwork.”

“Why should I remember which _brooms_ one should use to fly? How plebeian.”

Harry shot him a judgmental glance.

“Think I can magick this into a rune where I can hide my broom? For convenient summoning in tough situations. Lightningbolt broom in a lightning bolt scar.”

Tom looked at him flatly.

“Guess not…”

“As I was about to say,” Tom said, “you have two letters waiting for you.” The dark brunet gestured to the side of Harry’s room where a snowy white owl had been silently and patiently waiting, perched upon a branch that magically extended from the wall of the tent.

“Hedwig!” Harry cried out happily.

The snowy owl took flight and landed on the headboard of Harry’s bed. “How are you girl?” Harry asked, fondly stroking her feathers. The owl hooted in reply. “It’s been a while, huh? You should come visit us for Yule.”

Hedwig lifted her leg where two letters had been tied.

Harry swiftly untied them and pried one open. “Oh! It’s from Dad.”

_____________________________________________________________________

> Prongslet,
> 
> How’s your Hogwarts quest assignment? Going well? Your mum wants you to be ‘extra careful’. 
> 
> \- Dad  
>  p.s. Is the dog biting the scruff?

_____________________________________________________________________

 

“What in the world is that last bit about?” Tom asked, reading the letter over Harry’s shoulder with a quizzical expression.

“It means, has my guardian been taking good care of me?”

Tom stared harder at the letter. “I don’t see that at all.”

“My Dad’s weird. He’s into all these crazy code speech stuff.” 

“Huh. So you probably weren’t supposed to have translated that for me.”

“Oh, the second one’s from Ron. How did he get to Hedwig?”

_____________________________________________________________________

> Harry mate!
> 
> This quest is bollocks! I should have known something about it was funky when the requester’s icon is a _woollen sock_. 
> 
> As you know I left on Monday with Lucretia to get a letter from the ‘mysterious old man’. I know we were supposed to apparate there but I decided against it because it’s so far away and I wasn’t familiar with the place. Between splicing yourself in the middle of nowhere or freezing your balls off in November on a broom, which is worst? Take a vote!
> 
> Anyways, I flew up to the top of the cliff where you know, we were supposed to meet him, and guess who we saw?
> 
> ALBUS DUMBLEDORE. That’s right, mate! I told you our headmaster is nuts! I can’t believe he made me go so far out of Hogwarts to get a letter he could have handed to me at breakfast! 
> 
> And who am I supposed to pass the letter to? The Merchieftainess. Why put a quest out when he could just deliver the letter to the merpeople himself?! In the freaking Black Lake. AT HOGWARTS. And then he gave me his stupid twinkling eye look, and said the reason for not delivering it himself was “Well my boy, the last journey into the Black Lake gave my beard some split-ends and I wouldn’t like to ruin all the results my conditioning treatment package has had so far.”. 
> 
> Absolutely bonkers! I had to stop Lucretia from setting his beard on fire. So I’m going alllll the way back to Hogwarts now. This is so dumb.
> 
> Well apparently I have to swim into the Black Lake itself and request an audience with the Merchieftainess. ‘Mione will probably say it’s a good opportunity for networking. I just hope I don’t drown and die. 
> 
> Anyway, random bit of information, did you know Voldemort can fly in the air? _Without a broom?_ Yea, Lucretia told me, she saw it with her own eyes. Can you imagine! As in, playing Quidditch without a broom? That is just, it’s just gone into my mind now. Boom. Wow. Just think about it. 
> 
> -Ron
> 
> p.s. I was just finishing this letter to you, getting ready to fly back to Hogwarts on my Nimbus and lo and behold, Hedwig lands next to me. I swear she’s a seer. Owl Seer. Man, your family is real lucky for getting Hedwig assigned to you. I wish my family didn’t get a ruddy owl like Errol. Ow! She just pecked me for writing that!

_____________________________________________________________________

 

Harry chortled as he read the letter. He really should thank his best mate for always lifting his spirits.

He set aside both letters on the bedside table, intending to pen replies later. Hedwig hooted at him and flew out of the tent. She would know when to come back to collect the letters later.

“Now that that’s over, let’s review our plans for the second quest. It’s past midnight now, we will leave at noon. That will give you enough time to rest and reco- Harry? Are you listening to me?”

“Wha-? Oh.” Harry shook his head and then sighed. “Tom, I’m sorry. I can’t do this now. I thought I could wait till we were back at Hogwarts but I-I just can’t pretend everything is alright between us. We need to talk. About everything. About us.”

“Are we really doing this now?”

“Are you _really_ asking me to compartmentalise this? Because I can’t… I’m serious, Tom. I can’t. It’s eating away at me. I know we should concentrate on our quest but I need some kind of… of closure.”

Tom’s heart skipped a beat. Closure? He couldn’t have been too late, could he? No. He wouldn’t lose Harry, he refused to relinquish the boy.

“Very well.” he said, pausing to place his hand lightly on Harry’s knee. “I know this will be difficult for both of us, however, you should know that I do not deal well with emotional outbursts so…”

Harry blinked slowly. “Why am I not surprised? And I can be an adult about this too, you know. I’m 18 after all.”

“Hmm.”

“And… I don’t think this is going to work our usual way.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. 

“I mean, we can’t only talk about things we feel comfortable talking about, Tom. You and I… I don’t think we can deny how we both have the habit of pretending, avoiding or… hiding things.”

Tom smiled wryly and toyed with the edge of the blanket.

“Well, what do you propose?”

“Quid pro quo. A one for one exchange of questions and answers. If there’s something we don’t want to answer, we say it. But we’ll have to answer another question. No diversion, pretending, or hiding.”

“No omissions?” Tom tried.

“No!” Harry insisted. Tom leaned away, looking very apprehensive.

“Okay _fine_ , but within reasons. Very good reasons.”

Tom sighed. “Alright. But if you haemorrhage upon hearing the truth, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

“I won’t,” Harry promised. After all, he was prepared for anything now. He just wanted the truth. The young summoner thought he could steel himself, be cold and unemotional, and some tiny part of him wanted to hurt his guardian just as much, to give him a taste of the pain of rejection. 

Yet, one look at Tom and he gave up any vindictive intentions. Damn his bleeding heart. In all the time they had spent together, Harry had never seen the man look so nervous or hesitant. He reached out and placed his hand on where Tom’s was cupped over his own knee.

Startled, Tom looked up and stared into the pair of brilliant emerald eyes that held so much of what Tom had begun to recognise as love.

He nodded. “I will endeavour to speak plainly and openly as I have never done in my life.”

Harry straightened up where he had reclined on the bed. For the first time since that fateful night, he allowed himself to feel a little hope.

“As equals?”

“… As equals.”

Harry smiled and patted the spot next to him. The dark brunet stood up from his chair and lay beside Harry on the bed, propping himself up on the headboard so their shoulders touched.

“I’ll start first.” They both said in unison. They turned to glare at each other.

“Me first, Tom.”

“… I thought you said you were going to be an adult about this?”

“But you broke my heart.”

“… Fine.”

Harry grinned at him, and Tom shook his head exasperatedly. He was glad Harry seemed to be maintaining his calm demeanour. Tom hoped it would last.

“Sooo… why did you run.”

“Oh. A difficult one right from the start.”

“Tom….” Harry warned.

The dark brunet sighed. A profound silence fell upon the two for a moment, but Harry waited patiently. Harry had known this would not be an easy conversation, but it would be what determined the course of their relationship. He valued their easy camaraderie. Even if he had wanted… _more_ , he didn’t want it at the cost of their friendship.

Tom mumbled.

“What?” Harry asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Love.”

Harry held his breath. 

Tom gritted his teeth. “You said _love_ , and, I’ve never – I’ve never actually…”

“You’ve never loved before.” Harry finished, and released the breath he had been holding. He finally understood. 

“Never,” Tom confirmed, “not once.”

“No one? Not your family, or friends?”

“Not one single person.” Tom looked up at the slated ceiling of the tent thoughtfully. “Except, perhaps, myself.”

“How? I mean… why…?”

“Because love is a weakness, Harry.”

“Well, yes it is but… love is also strength. Two sides of the same coin, you know.”

“It’s not something I really understand. My mother and father… they… I was conceived through the use of love potions. She foolishly stopped the administration and told him, hoping in her silly heart that he would love her back. He abandoned her when she was pregnant and she died giving birth to me. I couldn’t understand what love was, what love is. I just knew that, I wanted nothing to do with it.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry’s heart seared in pain. It ached for the man he had come to love and it ached for himself. He knew this meant that Tom could not love him back, not even if he tried. Harry took deep calming breaths in order to hold back his tears.

“So you left.” Harry stated after some time, when his tears no longer threatened to spill.

“Yes.”

“Where did you go?”

“I believe it’s my turn to ask now, Harry.”

Harry gave him a sheepish glance.

“What do you love about me?”

“I… I…” Harry stuttered, feeling embarrassed but determined, “I love your intelligence, the way you know everything about well, everything. Your determination towards what we do; our training, our lessons. The sarcastic humour you have, y-y-y-your handsome face, a-a-and long legs. The way you’ve cared for me, the way you always smile and enjoy the food I’ve cooked. The time we’ve spent together, I’ve loved every single second of it.” 

Tom’s heart soared at the little confession speech. “Oh Harry, I –”

“M-my turn! Where did you go after you left?” Harry said hurriedly. 

Tom smiled, understanding of Harry’s embarrassment but greatly enjoying the sight of his blushing cheeks. He decided to spare his green-eyed little minx for the moment.

“A miasma hotspot.”

“Huh?”

“I always seek the miasma whenever I need answers. I was confused. I hadn’t known how to react to your confession and how to make sense of what I was feeling then.”

“So you tried to get the miasma to solve whatever made you emotionally deficient?”

“I’m NOT emotionally deficient!” Tom snarled, eyes sparking in anger.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said it that way!” Harry apologised quickly. “It’s just that, love potions abuse often lead to…” he trailed off.

The silence this time was a little more awkward. Harry was well aware of the multiple ill effects of potions abuse. He had an intensive course on it with Uncle Severus years back, when he had been caught playing with Pepper-Up potions. Amortentia abuse was particularly harmful, and remained one of the few physiological illnesses that potion masters and healers struggled to treat. 

Harry twiddled his fingers and looked back at Tom, eyes wide and apologetic.

Tom caught sight of his summoner’s expression and sighed. Harry was too cute to resist when he looked at him this way. Tom fought the urge to kiss Harry and combed his fingers through his dark locks in frustration.

“You’re right. As you have put it so eloquently, I did look to the miasma for my… emotional deficit. Or rather, I wanted it to help return to me my inability to love. But I’d realised that by the time I’d thought about it, it was too late. It had already happened. _You_ had already happened.”

Harry’s lower lip trembled. 

“You mean… do you actually mean that…”

“That I am now capable of loving? That whatever I’m feeling could be love?”

Harry pressed his trembling lips together.

“It’s my turn to ask the question, Harry.” Tom said softly. He leaned in closer to Harry, so close that the tip of their noses were a hair width away. So close that Harry could see deeply into Tom’s coal-black eyes, framed by thick lashes. Eyes so black that he could fall and drown in it for all eternity.

When Tom spoke, his voice was soft as a feather in the wind. 

“Can you remember when I first told you, if you were to kiss me first, you could not hold me back after?”

Harry nodded shakily, his nose bumping into Tom’s.

“I will hold onto that promise. I will have you, take you, claim you so that you are utterly, and irrevocably mine. But out of the generosity of my heart, I’ll give you one last chance to back out Harry.”

The summoner whimpered in response.

“My question is…” Tom breathed out, “will you let me kiss you?” 

This time, Harry did not hold back his tears, allowing them to fall freely as he nodded.

Tom leaned forward and crashed their lips together. Harry returned the kiss, passionately, desperately. 

Tom shifted his hands to caress Harry’s face, his neck, his soft fluffy hair, his toned chest. He gripped at the back of Harry’s head and his waist possessively.

Harry shivering and shaking in want, allowed himself to be handled as Tom desired, swept up like a boat in a maelstrom that he never wanted to escape. His tears streaming down his face, chest tightening with a feeling of _too much_ and _not enough_.

It was all he had wanted, all he had hoped for, all he had wished for. All he had dreamt about. Could he really have this? Him, _Harry_! With someone who would not care about his family riches, about the fame of the Potter family name? Could he share love with this man that he could never bear to part with?

Harry let go of his reservations, of his fear of his secret, allowing the miasma to show him the truth. He opened his mind, his heart, and felt the miasma readily flow through his body. At that instant, Tom’s feelings surged through him. And then he knew. Without a doubt, he knew.

With that, Harry returned Tom’s kiss with renewed fervor and vigour, clutching tightly at the man’s nape. Tom, surprised and delighted, slipped his hand below Harry’s shirt and ran his palm across warm skin.

Harry gasped at the cool touch on his back and chest, before gripping Tom’s shoulders, flipping the man onto his back and straddling his lap. Harry winced at the sudden pain that lanced through his body.

“Ow ow ow ow!!!” He howled.

“Harry!” Tom exclaimed in shock. “Are you alright?”

“My sides!”

Tom smiled in relief and held Harry’s hips. “Yes your ribs were broken. Your muscles will still be healing. Maybe we should continue such activities when you’ve fully recovered.”

Harry clutched at his sides and slumped down on top of Tom, burying his head in the man’s chest.

“It was getting so good too.” Harry said, voice coming out muffled.

The two men burst out laughing, and even though Harry’s sides ached from the movement, he found himself too happy to be bothered by it.

Tom shifted himself to lay more comfortably on the bed and tucked Harry gently into his side, laying the young man’s head upon his chest again. He combed his fingers gently through the jet-black, unruly hair.

Harry burrowed his head deeper into the man’s chest, his lips curving into a smile. He was so, so very happy. It was a real, physical effort to stop himself from bursting into bubbling joy and dancing about in the tent.

Tom was realised that he was feeling, for the lack of a better word, flummoxed. Oh most assuredly, he was overjoyed to have a certain young man resting in his arms now. But how it really came to this, he wasn’t quite sure. Tom wasn’t used to such spontaneity. It was frightening, being in love, bone chillingly terrifying. But he would not lose Harry. Could not! If this was what fate had in store for him, then the last thing he needed was to fail in such an endeavour. _Voldemort does not do failure_ , he reminded himself. If he was to be in love, as with all things, he and Harry would be the envy of all. 

They laid on the bed languidly, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

After a moment, Harry lifted his head, and peered up at Tom through his lashes. 

“Yes dear?”

“I just wanted to ask… you know, just to confirm… are we… are we dating? I mean are we… together? As in together together?”

Tom chuckled. “You’ll never be rid of me, Harry.”

Harry beamed up at him in delight.

“Mind you, this is very new to me. Do not expect ‘normal’ love from me, my darling. I have always been a very possessive, obsessive sort of person. You might regret this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you healthy love.” Harry teased.

“Oh _really_? _You’ll_ teach _me_?” Tom drawled. He tapped his bottom lip with his finger thoughtfully. 

“You know, I just thought of something. Quid pro quo?”

“Hmm?”

“Quid pro quo, dear.” Tom repeated, looking mischievously down at Harry.

The green-eyed young man eyed him nervously. “Erm. Okay. But shouldn’t it be my turn then?”

“Humour me.”

“Okay…?”

“Well then. I hope you are prepared. My question is, are you able to produce miasma from within yourself, your own body?”

Harry froze. 

“Do you use miasma you produce instead of drawing it from the environment?”

Harry remained frozen in shock.

“And therefore, what others distinguish as internal magic and external miasma is in your case, one and the same?”

“HOWDIDYOUKNOW!?” Harry finally reacted by shrieking in disbelief and elbowing Tom in the solar plexus as he got up quickly. The sudden movement made him clutch his sides in pain again.

Tom’s jaw dropped in shock from the force and he wheezed while rubbing his solar plexus tenderly. 

“How did you know!?” Harry shouted again, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he stared at his guardian.

“I’ve always known.” Tom said, still wheezing painfully as he sat up.

“But… how!? I’ve been so careful…” Harry asked, not bothering to cease his gaping.

“Because, I am intimately familiar with miasma. First, your magical signature is a dead giveaway. It’s reeking of miasma. Second, as I’ve already mentioned, I can tell when you make your own miasma instead of taking it from your surroundings. No matter how careful you are. Third. I’d have been blind to miss all the miasmic activity during your birthday. Fourth, you have unprecedented ability to neutralise miasmic toxins in your body. I could provide a lot more evidence, Harry dear. The miasma calls to you, it _adores_ you.”

“I… I…”

“Come here,” Tom said, reaching out to pull Harry towards him. “It is nothing to be afraid of. It’s a gift. One that I can teach you to manage. I can teach you how to control it, use it well.”

“No!” Harry said, stretching his arm out to halt Tom’s attempt, his eyes flashing with unnamed emotions. “No,” he repeated, much more softly, unsure and fearful.

Tom waited as Harry took several deep breaths. 

“My turn.”

“Very well.” Tom chuckled.

“Are you a demon?” 

This time, it was Tom’s turn to freeze.

“How did you know?” he asked, echoing his summoner’s earlier question.

“It took a while,” Harry admitted, “but the clues were all there. I just had to stop ignoring them and piece them together.”

“What led you to the conclusion?”

“Well, on their own, none of these would have rang any alarms. But altogether, even I couldn’t pretend to not notice. Channeling miasma through your body instead of your wand, extreme control over your magic, liking heather, which by the way, Bellatrix once told me that all demons liked heather courtesy of their Overlord, it’s almost considered a national flower by now. Oh and there’s also being elusive about your age, occasional red glint in your eyes…” 

“I’m impressed,” Tom acknowledged, “though, rather than a ‘red glint’, my eyes are a lot closer to… well let me show you.” The demon waved his hand lightly over his face, removing the glamour to reveal a pair of glowing crimson eyes.

Harry inhaled sharply at the sight.

“S-such red eyes. You must be very powerful?” 

“I should say the same for you, for one who wields the miasma as you do.”

Harry blushed and looked troubled. Tom stroked his flushed cheek lightly, nice and warm to the touch. His little seductor.

“Do not be worried, dear. I have been longing for this moment, so I may guide you on your path.” Tom looked at Harry with undisguised fondness, the corner of his mouth lifting as he smiled in delight. “And who better to do so than one such as myself?”

“One such as… _Wait a minute_! You’ve been waiting for me to figure it out!” Harry cried out in realisation. “You…!” he said, pointing his finger accusingly at the man.

Tom chuckled and shrugged lightly. “I never said what I was you know? I did not lie. Everyone just assumed I was a wizard. I thought it was funny. After all, I was once a wizard, a long time ago. 

Afterwards it seemed to bring certain benefits I hadn’t expected. I wondered how long it would take for you to realise.”

“But you’ve been misleading everyone!”

“No I simply did not provide the answers,” Tom corrected, “You’d be surprised by how many humans derive their own false conclusions if you refuse to give straight answers. Furthermore, I didn’t really hide it from you. I don’t really care if your friends know the truth, but I wanted you to find out.”

“You _did_ hide it from me! Back at the beginning when we were getting to know each other. Y-you kept this… this _blank face_ when I asked you if you were in your 20s… yes _that_ face! Right there! And then… then you smiled when Hermione asked you if you were above 35 years old! You know I went and told my parents that? I only started to question it after you squiggled something illegible on your form at the registration centre.”

Tom gave him an unrepentant look. “There you go. I neither confirmed nor denied being either in my 20s or 30s. Additionally, I am technically above 35. Once again, not a lie. Besides, Miss Granger is a sharp witch, she’d have known that any magic user in their 20s would never command power such as mine.” 

“Oh Godric! You’re so full of shit, Tom!” Harry grumbled, then giggled in exasperation and smacked his guardian’s arm playfully. They looked at each other with a mix of annoyance and adoration.

“You incorrigible fellow. How old are you, really? Don’t give me the above 35 bullshit. I know you well enough by now. With your magical power and miasma control you couldn’t be less than a century.”

Tom grimaced. “I decline to answer that question. What does it matter how old I am?”

“If it doesn’t matter, why can’t you say it?” Harry shot back. 

“Declining to answer the question.” Tom repeated.

“You can’t just tell me you have ‘had a lot of time’, or since ‘a long time ago’, or ‘those many years’, and not tell me how old you are.”

“And why not?” 

“Because I have to tell my parents something! They’ll ask for sure, and Sirius definitely will not let it rest until he digs out all the information he can about you.”

“Still declining to answer the question. Why do your parents and godfather have to know anyway?” Tom queried.

“Well, it’s just. You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Urgh. It’s just something you do when you introduce your…”

“Your…?” Tom asked, smirking. He leaned in close to Harry, enjoying the blush that crept up his cheeks.

“Boyfriend?” Harry squeaked out, then promptly forgot his question as Tom proceeded to devour him with another breathtaking kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Llyn Ogwen](https://www.google.com.sg/search?q=llyn+ogwen&client=firefox-b&dcr=0&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiX2sOVvLnYAhWKLY8KHS5kASMQ_AUICigB&biw=1366&bih=656): It's a very beautiful lake! Also an area much connected to the Arthurian legends. Tom's history before he became the Demon Lord will definitely be covered in subsequent chapters! :)  
>  Again, won't be updating until early February but there are a lot of important stuff just crammed into this chapter so hopefully that's enough to last for now.  
>  
> 
> Longer author's note:
> 
> About Voldemort and love:  
> If you could recall this quote in canon: "That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing." I felt this was something really important to address, that Voldemort was not only incapable of love but also chose not to because he didn't value it.  
> At the same time, I do think that it's a severe situation of potion abuse which requires magical medical intervention. But I really don't believe Voldemort was the only one who suffered from this (Amortentia was used very widely and even at Hogwarts as we can see in the later books). So rather than a conscious magical intervention, for the purpose of this fic, I had it be a gradual miasmic intervention that has allowed Voldemort the ability to love. But even then it wouldn't be quite the same, and he didn't love just because he could, but only because he fell for Harry in particular. Because Harry is powerful and that is something Voldemort values. And because with enough time, Voldemort would (potentially) be able to temper some of his more violent and impulsive tendencies and begin to consider about what he really values or not. So this was my attempt of making it plausible for Tom/Voldemort to love in this particular AU.


	11. Lesson Eleven: Patience is A Great Virtue; Ignorance A Great Vice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I looked through the next five chapters I had prepared and I thought "what the crap was I writing!?", so this led me to embark on rewriting them. I swear I wasn't drunk when I wrote those chapters back then. Really. 
> 
> Hopefully the sequence of events would make more sense with the rewrite starting from this chapter. I'm not sure I managed to really clean it up though, I'm starting to think I need a beta...
> 
> p.s. I know I usually reply comments before I post chapters but umm, I promise I will get down to replying all the comments soon!

The early rays of the morning sun filtered through his bed hangings to cast upon his face. His long, dark lashes fluttered against his cheek as he was slowly roused from his dreams.

The first thing Harry noticed was how warm he felt, despite the chill in the air that accompanied the change in seasons. The second thing he noticed was the pressure on his chest, caused by the pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around his middle. The third was the cool breath on his nape – cool but still warmer than the winter chill.

Harry grinned, heart singing with joy.

He carefully turned and maneuvered his way within the cage of arms until he was face to face with the most handsome man he had ever known.

Tom, his guardian.

His. 

Boyfriend. 

_His._

Harry blushed at the thought.

They had arrived back at Hogwarts late last night after the completion of their quests, to find their room altered. Everything was there but one noticeable, glaring difference. 

Tom’s bed had disappeared.

The demon could barely keep the delight off his face.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered if Hogwarts itself was possessed of a particularly interfering sort of spirit.

The thought of sharing a bed made Harry both excited and unspeakably nervous. When Tom suggested merely spooning instead of a more intimate exploration of the flesh, Harry could not help but breathe a sigh of relief though the pang of disappointment he felt was greater than he initially imagined.

He wondered why Tom held back. He suspected it had nothing to do with Tom’s consideration for Harry’s nerves.

Harry was often deemed a – _what did Sirius call it_ – prude? Uncle Severus would use the word ‘obtuse’. Or as Hermione often put it, ‘slow and dense’. 

But he was far from naïve. A plan to better understand the situation that both he and Tom were in was now firmly in place. He had carefully selected a few potions books gifted by his mother when he was younger and hid them below his – _their_ – bed the night before. If Tom suffered from the effects of potions abuse, no matter that he claimed he no longer did, Harry wanted to be fully prepared. Trivialising the effects of potions abuse was not an option. 

Harry held no idealistic fantasies that Tom would magically ease into a healthy relationship, but he would be damned if he didn’t try his utmost best for a man he had truly begun to love.

And here he found himself, pressed from chest to hips in bed with his man. 

Harry took his time to study the sleeping visage, the dark hair askew and mussed from sleep. Thick and elegantly shaped eyebrows furrowed lightly in the middle, shaping down to an aristocratic aquiline nose. Sculpted full lips. A masculine and well-defined jaw. So similar yet so different from his own dark but boyish features.

Harry wondered if Tom was having a dream of sorts, looking upon the man with unbridled affection. He leaned forward a mere inch to softly kiss away the slight furrow between Tom’s brows.

A pair of eyes snapped open, red as a river of blood, before it shuttered to its usual fathomless black. 

“Morning to you, my dearest Harry,” Tom murmured. The corners of the demon’s mouth lifted as one arm snaked possessively across Harry’s back to rest at his nape.

The young man had barely a second to register when he felt himself pulled forward to lips softly pressed against his own. He gave a little moan as his bottom lip was pulled and sucked in between teeth that lightly nibbled. As his mouth opened, a tongue slipped through and began sensuously, patiently, mapping the inside. It was soft, and so tender, yet edged with something darker.

“Mmpf. Tom…” Harry mumbled into the kiss.

They broke apart as Harry pushed against Tom’s chest. “We must prepare to report at the Great Hall, Tom.” Harry reminded.

He leaned his forehead against Tom’s, still locked in a tight embrace. 

“If we continue now, we won’t stop until dinner.” Harry said, flushing to the tip of his ears at his own declaration.

Tom’s response was to smile, a slow and wicked thing. He cradled his sweet human’s face in his hand before pressing another kiss to his lips. This one quicker but no less sensuous. 

“Very well. Let’s make our report before getting breakfast my dear. I’m positively starving.” Tom remarked, lips pulling back to reveal his teeth.

_____________________________________________________________________

 

With the return of fellowship students and their guardians from their novice field assignments, the Great Hall was bustling with activity. Voices were raised as students traded stories with excitement. One bushy-haired summoner (who was far too tired from her quests to complete her morning regime of three part Sleakeazy and one part Sev’emRight, don’t you judge!) sat stiffly with an untouched plate of breakfast toast. Her eyes narrowed as she shrewdly observed her best friend Harry Potter and his dashing guardian Tom Riddle enter from the hall from the main double doors.

As she arrived last night tired but proud from her completion of three novice quests, Ginny pulled her aside to confide in her findings of Harry’s botched up summoning ritual. The red-haired girl thought it odd that one as powerful as Harry ended up with a wizard guardian. Hermione had grudgingly agreed. No matter how she desisted from making claims about summoner superiority and wizard inferiority – having been born to two wizarding parents herself – Harry’s guardian was objectively unusual. 

Her parents’ experiences showed her just how systematically challenging it was for wizards and witches to access resources that summoners took for granted. She was fully cognizant of the ways societal discrimination worked against wizards applying for a career in guardianship. 

Even without Harry’s admittedly impressive academic records for practical components, the amount of power Harry would have given his guardian by revealing his name in the ritual was enough to cause a fight amongst potential guardians. That little tidbit of information from Ginny had shocked her out of her wits. Once she put it in perspective, she had to agree that a wizard was a very unlikely victorious competitor. 

Unless, of course, the wizard in question was particularly rich or influential. There weren’t many things in the world as powerful as inherited wealth.

Riddle was not a famous name. Her parents had confirmed that much for her.

But Tom was an undoubtedly rich man. Flowing with Gringotts gold. 

Any article of clothing on his body would have cost her family at least a year of their income. Hermione wondered how Tom came to be this obscenely rich. Perhaps a stroke of luck or an inheritance from a wealthier summoner relative? Maybe he dabbled in some unethical, shady businesses? This required some looking into.

Beyond having a considerable amount of wealth, Tom was also a charming and handsome fellow. A juicy piece of meat tossed to hungry lions. His charismatic manners would easily gain him entry into the upper echelons of society if his money had failed to do so, however unlikely the scenario was. 

More importantly, Tom was very knowledgeable and appreciative of books. The latter quickly earned Hermione’s approval. It was rare for Hermione to have the pleasurable company of another who enjoyed books as much as she did.

Unfortunately, with Ginny’s discovery, Hermione turned her attention away from her own concerns to consider the situation that Harry was in. As Harry’s best friend, the brunette would be well-placed to keep a closer eye on the two. On one hand, she wanted to prevent any compromise of Harry, but on the other hand, she hoped to disprove Tom as a shady character as Ginny seemed to believe. She looked to her right to confirm that Ginny had noticed the duo’s entrance as well.

The ginger-haired school belle sat next to Hermione, maintaining a calm and unaffected demeanour as she too watched Harry and Tom making their way over to the table. She had a good while to ponder and plan over the past few weeks. Ginny reached into her pocket and lightly tapped her wand. This plan would work well with the unintended help of her brothers. If Harry was fine, she’d leave Tom alone. If he wasn’t… Well. She wasn’t famous for her fiery temper without reason.

“Hey.” Harry said as he slid into his seat opposite his friends. 

Both girls narrowed their eyes in response. The green-eyed summoner was positively glowing.

“You had a really good quest?” Ginny enquired. “You look… really happy.”

“Oh yea,” Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “Two quests actually. But actually what makes me really happy is –”

“What is wrong with the two of you?” Ron asked as he arrived and took his customary position next to Hermione, and Lucretia slipped in next to Tom. “Why are you always overloading? Overloading on courses, now overloading on quests.” He grumbled.

Hermione sniffed. 

“And to nobody’s surprise, our good habits still haven’t rubbed off on you.”

Ron snorted, then looked guiltily away when Hermione’s eyes flashed. 

“What’s that below your fringe, mate?” Ron asked as his gaze fell upon his best mate’s face.

Harry brushed aside his unruly fringe to reveal the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

“Wicked!” Ron said in awe. “How did you get that?”

“From a Wyvern. Slashed me across the head but Tom got the poison out in time.” Harry said, smiling with overflowing love at his guardian. “Actually, we –”

“Will you be removing it?” Hermione squinted as she took a closer look.

“Why would he do that?” Ron asked, puzzled. “It’s cool!”

“You look very handsome with that scar, Harry.” Luna’s dreamy voice carried over from behind Harry. He swerved around to grin at the ethereal Fae sitting next to Neville at an adjacent table.

“You think so?”

“Of course. Scars speak the stories of our lives. Though some scars may be much less visible.”

Harry brought his fingers up to trace the outline of his scar. He wondered what scars Tom might carry.

“You know, Harry, it’s a lightning bolt scar.” Luna added. “You can make it into a rune to store your Lightningbolt broom.”

Harry’s eyes practically shone in excitement. “Hah!” He crowed in delight while looking smugly at Tom. “I told you so!”

He frowned once he registered the range of flabbergasted expressions around him. 

“What? It’s a good idea! Don’t look at me like I’m crazy.”

“Don’t worry, you’re just as sane as I am.” Luna said, patting Harry lightly on the shoulder before she dragged Neville out of his chair and proceeded to skip out of the Great Hall. 

While the others laughed at Harry’s expense, Ron looked aghast at Luna’s retreating back before turning to his breakfast. He promptly gagged at the bowl of warm watercress cream soup and toasty bread, and set off an avalanche of reactions.

“Are you alright!?” Hermione shrieked.

“A loss of appetite for Ron is a severe condition.” Harry confirmed, face scrunched up in mock concern.

Hermione pulled out her wand, rapidly casting simple diagnostics spells at Ron.

“He gagged,” Ginny added nonchalantly, “Are you pregnant?”

“Preg… What!? I’m _male_!” Ron yelled. “Wait a minute… you’ve been reading those stupid books again, haven’t you?!”

Ginny shrugged in response. “Charlie bought the latest book in the series for me. If you recall, in the third book, after William was impregnated the second time by the serial killer–”

“I don’t care that William was pregnant and whodunit to him!” 

“Be serious!” Hermione interrupted, “Ron! Why have you reacted this way to food?”

“You say that as if I love all types of food.” Ron argued. 

He clamped his mouth firmly shut when his breakfast companions shot him identical disbelieving looks. 

Lucretia leaned forward from where she sat with a look of glee on her face. “Ronald was served a royal banquet dish by the merfolk when he delivered a message for his quest.”

“Oh! Well! What an honour it must have been!” Hermione exclaimed in delight. 

“It was a plate of fresh, wriggling Grindylows wrapped in seaweed and served with oyster sauce.” Lucretia clarified.

Ron immediately turned green and shoved away his watercress soup while Hermione and Ginny blanched.

“You ate it, didn’t you?” Harry asked sympathetically.

Ron nodded morosely. “They threatened to spear me if I didn’t. The saving grace was that I could cry under water and they’d be none the wiser. They did give me this though.”

Ron rummaged through his pockets throwing a couple of sweet wrappers out before he found a little pouch containing a tiny seashell.

Hermione immediately started to inspect the item. 

“This is odd. Merfolk don’t use seashells… I’d say the markings on this side reminds me of Siren scripts…" 

"An astute observation," Tom spoke, "that is indeed the language of Sirens."

"How odd. Why would they give this to you?"

"Don't know, Dumbledore said I was to keep it, since it was gifted to me."

" _Professor_ Dumbledore." Hermione corrected. "Hmm. Mind if I take this to study?”

“Go ahead,” Ron said uninterestedly.

“Well what about you, ‘Mione?” Harry asked. “How did your three quests go?”

“Wait. Three?” Ginny gaped. 

“Just two novice level quests and one level E.” Hermione replied.

“ _Just_ , she says…” Ron grumbled under his breath.

“Well the first two went fine,” Hermione continued as if she never heard his remark, “but the third one was unexpectedly tedious. I was supposed to be picking berries off this tree...”

Ginny tuned out the conversation as she noticed her family’s representative owl Errol flying over with a large set of parcels swinging in its talons. It was swerving about and swaying dangerously close to the heads of some of the students as it made its way to where she sat. 

Finally.

Ginny reached out and took the parcels as Errol spun uncontrollably and crashed into Ron’s untouched bowl of soup. 

“Blimey!” Ron yelled. “He needs to retire!”

“Don’t be cruel,” Hermione scolded, “he’s just been overworked.”

Harry reached out and gingerly helped the owl stand upright. Errol shook off droplets of soup before taking off in a flurry of feathers.

“It’s not like we haven’t told him to take a break. He’s got his pension all set up actually. I think he keeps working to stave off the boredom.” Ginny stated as she collected the parcels in her arms and stood up. 

“Now, are you all just going to sit there or are you coming with me to open up these lovely goodies?”

***

“Are those the boxes Fred and George promised?” Ron asked, once they had settled down in Hermione’s room.

Ginny had mindfully steered them away from either the seventh year common room or the fellows’ common room so that she could carry out her plan with minimal interference.

“Yes. These are the pilot boxes for their new subscription service. They did so well with the wizarding ones that they’ve started one for summoners.”

“This one says for students though,” Harry remarked as he peered at one of the boxes resting in Ginny’s lap.

“Oh they are all the same. Fred said he wasn’t sure how well they would be received with the working adults so they geared this for Hogwarts students first.” Ginny said as she gestured to the other boxes on the coffee table they had gathered around. 

"Understandable," Hermione nodded, "Summoners can be a very judgmental people."

"Just to confirm, we are talking about ourselves here?" Ron squinted.

"Just because we come from a position of privilege doesn't mean we should be blinded to that privilege Ron."

“There's one for me, you, Ron and Hermione, each.” Ginny said, heading off a quarrel before it started.

She looked up at where Lucretia and Tom were seated. “Sorry about that, they didn’t account for more when they were making it.”

“That’s alright,” Tom replied, a slight smile on his face. “It’s nothing to be troubled about.”

“What are these boxes about?” Lucretia asked, brows furrowed. 

“It’s some sort of monthly subscription service where Fred and George put items inside that people could use and enjoy more frequently. It's meant to have a surprise factor for those who enjoy such things. Though, I think this one might be geared to pranking and playing truancy if it’s a student box…” Harry explained.

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

“An enterprising idea,” Tom mused. 

“We will of course share the items with you, it’s only right. And Fred and George, that is, my older brothers, they would love to have more feedback on what they’ve prepared before the launch. If you’re alright with helping out?”

“Certainly,” Tom confirmed.

Ginny ducked her head to hide her smirk.

“It’s quite hefty.” Ron said as he picked up the box nearest to him and proceeded to rip it open. “Whatever possessed Errol to carry all these himself?”

“That owl’s a workaholic, if I’d ever saw one.” Hermione said approvingly, as she carefully pried open her package. “Well let’s see what the twins have planned.” She adjusted the parchment next to her, unfurled and readied for constructive criticism. 

Harry saw a letter at the top detailing all the items and set it aside for later reference. The first item seemed to be a pair of socks. He lifted it out from his box, where a tag proclaimed it to be “ _ **Yule Want These Stinkin’ Socks** : Give these beautifully embroidered festive socks to your enemies for Christmas and ensure they have the smelliest feet during the season of Yule!_”.

“I’m not sure whether to give this to Malfoy or to Dumbledore,” Ron muttered, as he tried to look inside one of the socks. 

" _Professor_ Dumbledore." Hermione reminded.

“Now I know why they were asking Mum for knitting and embroidery lessons,” Ginny grinned. “They’re going to get into so much trouble if she knows why they wanted to learn.”

Harry set aside a mixed set of skiving snackbox sweets. It wouldn’t work on Flitwick anyway. Below that was a pocket-sized book on _**101 Eazy Weazley Pranks**_. Flipping through it, he saw a whole range of spells. He definitely wanted to try the nose-enlarging one on Uncle Severus. As long as he made sure he wouldn’t get caught.

Tom took the book as well, looking rather impressed as he read it. “How very novel. Some are potentially useful as well. They could be registered in the international compendium.”

“Fred and George were always very good at this,” Hermione mused, “I remember the one where they made a spell generating anagrams. That was rather creative.”

“Oh I know! The one where they made funny anagrams out of our names. I was ‘Pyjamas the Terror’” Harry laughed. “Think they included that spell in here?” 

Beside him, Tom stiffened and Harry turned to him with a sly grin on his face. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a good anagram yet. It’s kind of a pre-requisite to join the Weasley gang.” 

Tom responded to the statement with a smile though the expression looked rather strained. 

“No. It’s not in here.” Ginny confirmed. “They never did reveal the spell to us though.”

Harry felt Tom lose some of the tenseness, and his hand that was resting upon the small of Harry’s back relaxed. Who knew his boyfriend would be so afraid of embarrassing nicknames?

“What else is in there?” Lucretia asked. 

“A candle?” Ron hummed as he pulled out a candle jar. “Ooh would you look at this! They’ve made it Lord Voldemort-themed!” 

"What?" Tom said intelligently.

“Oh you weren’t joking!” Hermione said as she took hers out. “Oh. My. Goodness! How brilliant!”

“Hermione’s been crushing on Voldemort back when we were in our third year. Or basically, ever since she read about some of the rituals he had created.” Ron leaned forward and mock whispered to Lucretia and Tom.

“Well, he’s made such amazing rituals and you know how I’d love to work on ritual creation once we complete our studentship.” Hermione sighed dreamily. “He’s such a part of history. Lord Voldemort must have seen everything.”

Tom had to hold back a frown. He felt displeased with the way she said that. As if he was so… so… _old_ ….

“Yes but he’s not. You know. _Good looking_.”

“We do not judge people by their appearances!” Hermione exclaimed in annoyance. 

Ron shrugged. “It’s not just the appearance though, is it? We also know him to be a megalomaniac who decimated whole nations.”

“Oh _really_. Weren’t you the one who said we couldn’t hold him to the same moral standards because he’s so ancient?” Hermione crossed her arms challengingly.

Tom’s left eye twitched.

“I’m not saying he isn’t cool, just saying you could be a little less obsessed about him.” Ron muttered.

“Oooh! Ronniekins is jealous!” Ginny laughed. “From what I remembered, _you_ had the biggest crush on him.”

“Did not.” Ron grumbled. 

“No offense meant.” Ron said hurriedly to Lucretia, as he was struck with the rare realisation that what he said could have been insensitive.

“None taken.” Lucretia said a little stiffly.

“Umm. Let’s see what the letter says.” Ron rustled the piece of parchment. 

“Ahem. ‘Ever wanted your room to smell like the Demon Overlord Voldemort? We handmade this candle to encourage you to do well on your summoning studies with the scents inspired by the most powerful being. Light it up to turn your room into the realistic image of a cave.’” 

Tom reached in to take the glass jar of candle from Harry’s box.

He blinked at the label on the candle jar. 

_**Demon Overlord Voldemort. Scents: Miasma. Underground cavern. Mystery. Soy Candle. 9 oz.**_

“Interesting.” Tom murmured. He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff of the candle before handing it to Lucretia.

“So, does it smell like the Demon Overlord?” Hermione asked Lucretia excitedly.

The demoness gingerly sniffed the candle and stole a glance at Tom. “N… ye… no?” she stuttered for the first time that the summoners could remember.

Hermione frowned. 

“Does it?” Harry leaned back and whispered in Tom’s ear.

Tom smiled and whispered back, “There should be the smell of parchment, leather and lakes as well.”

“That’s just going to smell like you then.” Harry gave a soft giggle.

Tom chuckled and kissed the shell of Harry’s ear.

They were interrupted by several loud gasps.

“Merlin’s wrinkled balls.” Ron breathed out. “The two of you… are together together?”

“I knew it!” Hermione exclaimed. “The two of you are finally official!”

“What do you mean _finally_?” Harry queried. 

“As if we couldn’t predict this, what with all the eyes you were making at each other.” Hermione huffed. “You really are dense, Harry. Still better than Ron of course."

"Hey!" Ron whined. "And I was asking a question-"

"Plus I was pretty sure you were holding hands at breakfast. It was in the angle of your arms.” Hermione continued.

“- does this mean that you are together together?” Ron asked.

“Wait, you’re saying everyone expected this?” Harry asked, shocked.

“Oi! Are you? Together together?” Ron asked.

“Harry, it was a matter of time… why didn’t you tell us though?” Ginny added.

“Helllooo? Can I get a reply here? Are they together together?” 

“I did attempt but… I don’t know, everyone was so excited to share about their novice quest experiences. It was kind of difficult to bring up the topic out of nowhere. Like hey! I’m officially dating Tom now. Uh yea, that’s awkward.” Harry clarified, his cheeks blushing tomato red.

Ginny hummed in agreement.

“Okay I guess that answers my question.” Ron sighed.

“Can we… get back to the boxes?” Harry asked, rubbing at the back of his neck shyly.

Hermione grudgingly nodded but he could see her capitulation wouldn’t last for long. She would sooner ask for the details than later.

Harry shook out the last two items, which was an odd-looking frame with a parchment instead of a picture, and a round bottle of blue liquid.

“What’s this for?” he asked, looking up to see Ginny buzzing with excitement.

“It’s a future analyser! My brothers have been working on it for ages. It’s still a prototype, so it won’t be extremely detailed, but basically, you drip some of your blood and this blue liquid over your parchment and it will make a prediction of your future magic and health statuses based on your current condition. At least, it’s supposed to.”

“That sounds like a remarkable piece of invention.” Lucretia commented, eyeing the items with what looked like trepidation.

“It certainly sounds like a sophisticated spell. I have a mind to invest in the two Weasleys’ business.” Tom said.

“Yes well, but as Ginny said, it’s still a prototype. With how Fred and George are, they don’t take these things too seriously. They’re always looking to make it more fun than useful.” Hermione added with no small amount of skepticism. 

Ron shrugged. “Might as well give it go,” he said while dripping three drops of blood and three drops of the blue liquid into the frame he held.

The parchment glowed a soft blue before words in a simple script appeared. 

MAGIC LEVEL: HIGH, INCONSISTENT   
MIASMA CONTROL LEVEL: BORDERLINE LOW SUGGESTION: FUTURE IN QUESTING, DUELING AND FIELD STRATEGY. AMPLE PRACTICE OF MAGIC AND MIASMA CONTROL IS ADVISED.  
LIFE PATH: YOUR TEMPERAMENT LEADS TO AN EXCITING BUT SHORT LIFE. CHANGES SHOULD BE MADE TO DIET PLAN TO PREVENT PREMATURE DEATH. AVOID FOODS WITH HIGH SUGAR AND SATURATED FAT CONTENT.

“Did this thing just predict an _early death_ for me!?” Ron cried out indignantly.

Harry clutched his stomach as he desperately tried to get his laughter under control.

“And that’s exactly what your mother and I have been trying to tell you Ron.” Hermione said sternly.

She picked up her own frame where she had completed the steps to watch the words appear as well.

MAGIC LEVEL: VERY HIGH   
MIASMA CONTROL LEVEL: AVERAGE  
SUGGESTION: FUTURE IN QUESTING, SPELL CREATION, PUBLIC SERVICE. IMPROVED MIASMA CONTROL REQUIRED TO PURSUE QUESTING CAREER. TOO MUCH EXPOSURE TO MIASMA IS NOT ADVISED.  
LIFE PATH: YOUR TEMPERAMENT SUGGESTS A FULFILLING BUT STRESSFUL LIFE. WATCH CORTISOL LEVELS TO ENSURE A HEALTHY HEART. 

“Hmmm.” Hermione said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She began to scribble on her note-taking parchment as she analysed her results.

“Tom.” Ginny said softly, looking at Harry’s guardian in a beguiling manner. “Would you like to try it too? You’re so very knowledgeable. I believe my brothers would truly appreciate your feedback on this product.”

“I am not opposed to it.” He replied mildly.

“Wonderful!” the redhead smiled as she pulled out her own frame to hand it to him.

As Tom took the frame and dripped his blood and the blue potion onto the parchment, he noticed Ginny shooting Hermione a meaningful look. A smile spread slowly across his face.

Those clever girls.

The others leaned in as the frame glowed blue and words appeared. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

MAGIC LEVEL: LEGENDARY   
MIASMA CONTROL LEVEL: LEGENDARY  
SUGGESTION: FUTURE IS LIMITLESS.  
LIFE PATH: IMMORTALITY. IMPROVING YOUR TEMPER WOULD BE BENEFICIAL TO YOUR HEALTH. 

“Whaa-?!” Ron began.

“I… Immortal?” Hermione stammered.

Ginny had frozen in place, her face pale.

“How preposterous,” Lucretia cut in, “there could be some manufacturing issues with these frames.”

“But mine and Ron’s were surprisingly accurate! I’m not saying that–”

“Wait! I’ve got immortality too!?” Harry announced.

The others turned to look at him.

“You did?” Ginny broke out of her stupor to snatch Harry’s frame.

MAGIC LEVEL: EXCELLENT   
MIASMA CONTROL LEVEL: EXCELLENT  
SUGGESTION: FUTURE IN QUESTING, TEACHING, MIASMIC CREATION. MARKED IMPROVEMENTS WILL BE SEEN WHEN RESTRAINTS ON MIASMIC CONTROL ARE REMOVED.  
LIFE PATH: IMMORTALITY. BRIGHT AND STABLE. YOUR TEMPERAMENT IS SUITABLE FOR NURTURING CAREERS. REDUCE GLUTEN INTAKE.

“I know I’m intolerant but I can’t reduce gluten intake,” Harry announced glumly. “I love bread.” 

Hermione snatched the frame from Ginny to read it.

“Immortality again?” she muttered, “You’re right, Lucretia. These frames may be a little hit or miss.” Hermione scribbled more constructive criticism on the piece of parchment for feedback. "Kind of disappointing, overall." she murmured. "Could have added another book or something." 

“Well it’s all in good fun,” Lucretia replied generously.

“What I know is that this means I will not die an early death,” Ron said a smug tone. “And that’s that!”

_____________________________________________________________________

 

“Okay, Ginny,” Hermione said when the others had left. “Just the two of us now.”

“That analyser,” Ginny gritted her teeth, arms folded tightly over her chest. “I helped Fred and George with it over the summer, I _know_ it works!” 

“But _immortality_? And for Harry as well?” Hermione argued.

“Look I know this plan isn’t foolproof, and I’m going to have to think of something a lot more concrete. And I know immortality should not have shown up on Harry’s frame but… Hermione, what if Tom has ‘infected’ Harry?”

“What are you suggesting? Vampirism?” Hermione asked disbelievingly.

“Okay at the very least Tom did something to Harry’s frame, to absolve himself with those results of his.”

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions here Ginny,” Hermione shook her head, “Tom hasn’t done anything to be guilty of.”

“Yet,” Ginny said darkly.

“This is not enough for us to work with. I wonder if we should talk to Harry first.” Hermione sighed. 

“You said if he had already been compromised then we would instead be alerting Tom to our suspicions.” Ginny reminded.

“I did. I just feel bad, you know? Harry looked so happy today, being with Tom and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“So you don’t think Tom could be a vampire? Or maybe a dhampir or something?” Ginny asked.

“Even assuming the immortality result was accurate. He would not be able to walk in sunlight even as a dhampir.”

“I thought quarter-blood dhampirs could?”

“No that’s just a falsehood popularised by that infamous actress ‘Bluffy the Vampire Liar’ in the last century.”

“Okay, but even so… Ugh. Hermione, you don’t get it. I’ve seen what the frame says for all the test-tries we did. It's accurate. Even Lee tried it. Maybe immortality means something else but it’s definitely nothing good!”

“I’m not invalidating your work Ginny, or Fred and George’s for that matter. But vampirism doesn’t add up.”

“Have you considered this though? Harry could be in full thrall. I don’t know which is worse, if he’s really in love with Tom and we break his heart or if he’s tricked into thinking so while in full thrall. I really hope it’s nothing but my gut is telling me strongly that things are not that simple.”

“Okay, if you think vampirism is a plausible concern then we just need a bit of Harry’s blood to test if he’s in thrall. It’s harder to tell if Tom’s not a vampire and he’s used the summoning contract to his benefit instead. Don’t worry, we will figure out whether he has compromised Harry and whether he has plans to do so.” Hermione said determinedly.

Ginny nodded in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously a lighter chapter this time round. Harry and Tom need to take a break from the intense feelings of the last couple o' chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, commenting and giving kudos!


End file.
